


A Long Life (But One Worth Living)

by rumpelsnorcack



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 32,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpelsnorcack/pseuds/rumpelsnorcack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots exploring the story of Rory's life, from meeting Amy onwards.  They all work together to make a coherent story, but they are all designed as one-offs as well.  Each should stand on its own merits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this on and off for a while. It's still not finished, but is getting there. Not sure how many chapters there will be, but each one is intended as a short one-shot in its own right so all can be read independently. However, they do all build together to give a picture of Rory's life, complicated timelines and all. It's all roughly chronological, but each piece doesn't necessarily exist in the same timeline as each other piece. So some are pre-reboot, some post, some exist in a universe which includes Mels, others don't.
> 
> There is one chapter containing sexual material but if you prefer to read a Teen rating (for language, mostly) it can be skipped.

Rory was old. That shouldn’t be any great realisation, really, but he was eighty one now, nearly eighty two, and today he felt every one of those years in his bones. Truth be told, he felt every one of the months, days, hours, minutes, seconds … the weight of them all pressed down on him, bowing his shoulders and making his back ache in cold weather. Today a brisk breeze was whisking in under the doorframe and settling around Rory’s ankles so the aches were at their peak. He lifted his arms in a stretch and let out a moan as his vain attempt to appease his muscles had the opposite effect. Groaning, he poured his tea.

With slow, steady steps Rory shuffled over to his favourite chair, his tea cup rattling on the saucer clutched in his frail, shaking hand. He put the cup down on the small table nearby. The tea slopped over the edge, splashing into the saucer as his traitorous hand wobbled a little as he set it in place. Rory gripped the arms of the chair and lowered himself down into his chair, careful to avoid aggravating his back again. He sighed as his body relaxed into the familiar contours. He leaned his head back against the welcoming headrest and took a deep, shuddering breath before gently picking up his tea again.

He was just taking a deep, appreciative sniff of the tea when Amy rustled into the room behind him and laid her hand on his shoulder, her squeeze a soft comfort. He rested his hand on hers for a moment, smiling up at her. She bustled over to the kitchen to make her own cup of tea before settling down into her chair. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Amy spoke.

‘Did you think about it yet?’ Her voice still had traces of its soft Scottish burr, but was overlaid with a harsher American twang after so long living in New York.

‘About what?’ Rory stalled. He knew, of course, what she wanted to discuss and in truth he had been thinking about it. He just wasn’t convinced.

She clicked her tongue in irritation. ‘You _know_ what. Quit stalling.’

‘I’m … not sure, Amy. You’re the writer.’

‘Perhaps, but you’re the one with the stories, the experience. I didn’t see two thousand years of history. You did.’

Rory sighed softly. They’d been over this. In a way she was right – he had several lifetimes’ worth of experience just sitting in his head. It couldn’t be too long before he was no longer around to tell his story. Perhaps he should … no. He shook his head. This wasn’t his thing.

‘I’m not good with words, Amy. Not like you are. I couldn’t do it justice.’

Amy smiled. ‘Oh my sweet numpty. Of course you could.’ She rose, kissed him on the forehead and took her empty cup out to the kitchen. She winked at him as she returned and switched the TV on. As always, Rory felt the weird disconnect of living in a world where TV was just starting to be considered a threat to the stability of the known world – or at least its children’s health, as rock and roll music and moving pictures had been in their turns. The ubiquity of the internet was years away yet, and Rory still missed his mobile phone; both things this world had never even imagined.

He realised with a start that he was unlikely to ever see a mobile phone again. It was then that it hit him – he had all these experiences, both the mundane and the incredibly bizarre. But to everyone around him they would _all_ be bizarre. Imagine trying to explain the internet to the bright young teenagers these days, with their fluorescent clothing and brand new walkmans. It would seem like something from the imagination of the Star Trek creators. Star Trek, which had barely even had its resurrection, and was still showing endless repeats of the original series. He chuckled to himself.

Amy looked over and quirked her brow at him. He laughed again.

‘I was just thinking about how hard it would be to explain the Two Thousands to people now. They’d think we were on drugs I think.’

Amy laughed, her deep chuckle as infectious as ever. She reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘You’re thinking about it!’

Rory nodded noncommittally and sank deep into thought. He tried to make sense of his life … his lives. He could barely remember his youth which, he realised with a sudden pang, was about to start again with the year of his birth fast approaching – next year, in fact. What if Amy was right? Even if he didn’t intend to publish the story of his life, it certainly deserved to be preserved somewhere other than in his head. Perhaps he _should_ write it down, and at least get his jumble of memories into some sort of order.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory meets Amelia for the first time.

The ball thumped against the wall and bounced off languidly.  Rory brushed his hair off his face and walked back over to pick it up.  His father kept telling him to go outside and play, but that wasn't much fun when you were alone.  His parents seemed to think he had heaps of friends and would play football with them whenever he was sent out to the park.  Rory didn't really have the heart to tell them that he had no friends and would kick the ball around by himself.  He sighed and sent the ball thudding towards the wall again.  This time it pinged off with a satisfying speed, and Rory was just raising his arms to salute himself when he heard a squawk from behind him.

 

'Oi, you numpty! What do you think you're doing?'

 

Rory spun around, startled into a blush.  _Ohhhhhh dear_ , he thought. _It's Amelia Pond_.  She was widely considered to be slightly crazy and more than a little unstable.

 

'Hello,' he said awkwardly.  'Um ... I was just kicking a ball around a bit.'  She stared at him accusingly, holding the ball which had left a vivid red mark on her cheek.  'It's good exercise,' he added defensively.

 

Amelia scowled at him.  'Why are you playing by yourself?'

 

'Because I wanted to,' he shot back, stung by the implied criticism in her words.  She should know, better than anyone, what it was like to be a no-mates. 

 

'Oh.' Her face fell.  'You don't want company then?'

 

'What?  You want to play?' he stammered, slightly terrified by the idea of doing something with the mad Amelia.

 

'No, I want to watch.  What do you think, you idiot?  Of course I want to play.'  She threw the ball, surprisingly hard, at him and waited.  He dropped it to the ground and shuffled a pass over to her.  She grabbed it with her foot and sent it flying back towards him.  He was barely able to intercept it before it hit the wall.

 

'You're not too bad,' was his grudging assessment.  She smiled at him, and for one moment he felt his heart stop.  Amelia, in her natural state, was a scowling, ragamuffin of a child, but when she smiled her whole face lit up and transformed her into a startling beauty.  He gaped at her for a few seconds which gave her an opening to run up and kick the ball from between his feet.  Blushing, he pulled his mind back to the job and tackled her.

 

They passed the ball back and forth between them, and by the end of the afternoon they had formed an uneasy friendship.  Rory was still unsure if he _wanted_ to be her friend – after all, she did have that crazy imaginary friend and everyone else shunned her.  Of course, everyone else shunned him as well, and behind her wild exterior Rory detected a little vulnerability.  Her bravado was just a little _too_ unstudied.  Always one to take in hurt and damaged creatures, Rory couldn't help but be drawn to Amelia. 

 

'Shall I see you tomorrow?' Rory asked, trying not to appear either too eager or too reluctant.  He was conflicted about whether he wanted someone to hang out with, or wanted to run away from the weirdness he could already tell followed in Amelia's wake.

 

'Maybe,' she said, the scowl back on her face.  'I have stuff to do.  Important stuff. But if I have time I might come by.'

 

Trying to pretend he wasn't hurt, Rory nodded acceptance and turned to walk away.

 

'Oi! Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing?'

 

'I figured you didn't want me to know or else you'd have told me.'

 

Amelia rolled her eyes.  'You're such a weirdo, Rory,' she said, 'but I kind of like you.'  She grinned at him and walked away.  He thought he heard her say, 'see you tomorrow' as she disappeared, but he wasn't certain.

 

The next day, Rory returned to the wall.  He half-hoped, half-feared that Amelia would be there too.  He'd been there ten minutes and was just giving up on the idea of her coming when she panted up to him.

 

'My parents ... ugh, they're so annoying!' she exclaimed as she flopped down onto the grass. 

 

'Why?'

 

'Oh, they want me to see another psychiatrist.'  She rolled her eyes.  'They just won't believe that the raggedy doctor is real.'

 

'The raggedy doctor is ...?'

 

'He fell out of the sky in a blue box, and he promised me he'd show me the stars.  Only, then he went away and never came back.'  She glanced over at Rory and scowled at the look she must have caught on his face.  'I'm not mental; he is real.  And he will come back for me one day!'  Her voice was getting strident, and Rory winced.

 

'It's not that I don't believe you.  It's just ... well, it does seem kind of weird, and you did just dump it on me.'

 

'He was funny.  Weird and funny.  He made me cook for him, then he made me laugh, and he sort of fixed a crack in my wall.'

 

Rory personally thought everyone was right and she was a bit barking, but it seemed harmless enough.

 

'Why do your parents want you to see a psychiatrist just because of that?' he asked.  'That seems mental itself.  I mean, even if it wasn't true lots of people have imaginary friends.'

 

Amelia scowled at him again.  'He's not imaginary!'

 

Rory huffed in frustration.  'I said 'even if' not 'definitely is' so don't yell at me.'

 

'I don't know why.  They want a perfect daughter, I guess, and I'm not very perfect.'

 

'I don't know,' Rory said.  'You're a bit frightening sometimes, like when you yell, but I think you're pretty cool.'

 

Amelia smiled at him, grabbed the ball and jumped to her feet.  'Race you to see who gets the most shots at the wall,' she called over her shoulder as she kicked the ball away from him.

 

Rory leaped up after her and started scuffling with her to retrieve the ball.  Just like that, they were firm friends.

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with a child's response to divorce.

'Muuuuuum!' Rory shouted as he ran in the door, throwing his schoolbag in the direction of his bedroom and sliding to a halt in front of the fridge.

'Mum's not here.' His father's voice was different somehow. If sound could have colour, Brian’s voice would be grey. Lifeless. Always attuned to nuances in emotions, with his heart pounding while a sudden leaden ball took up residence in the pit of his stomach, Rory turned towards his father.

'What do you mean not here? She's always here.' Rory's voice shook, though he tried to retain his composure. As he looked into his father's eyes, which were watery and sad, Rory's hunger abruptly vanished and he slowly closed the fridge door.

'She's gone away. She'll be back in a bit to talk to you, but she's not going to be living here anymore.'

Rory's ten year old heart twisted at the words.

'No.' Rory shook his head, refusing to believe his father. 'But ... why? We're a family. Families stay together, that's what they do.' His voice quivered a little as he looked up at his father. Rory tried very hard to sound reasonable, but he could feel his body beginning to tremble, so his final words came out in a rush before he gave in to the trembling and cried. 'Doesn't ... doesn't she want to be a family anymore?'

Brian walked over to Rory and gave him a hug. 'Oh son, of course she wants to be a family. She just ... she and I just don't think we should be together right now.' 

Rory's lips quivered even more, and he held himself rigid, knowing that if he melted into his father's embrace the tears definitely would come. He pulled away quickly, then asked, 'But why? Is it something I did? I'll be better, I promise. Just tell her to come back.' Rory’s hands felt like ice and he twisted them together in a desperate attempt to stop them from trembling. For some reason it was vital that Rory not allow his father to see how important this question was.

'It's not you, Rory.' Brian's mouth hardened into a tight line, and he took a deep breath before continuing. 'It's ... she found another man to love and she wants to be with him.'

Rory's mouth twisted even more as he watched his father. He refused to cry, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he couldn't hold it in anymore so he said, his voice tight with the effort of containing his emotions, 'I'd better go put my bag away. Don't want to leave a messy house,' and ran out of the room, grabbing the bag as he barely made it to his room before the trembling overwhelmed him.

When he got to his bedroom, arms wrapped protectively around the bag, Rory shut the door carefully before throwing himself onto his bed and letting the tears fall. 

Despite what Brian had said, Rory felt that there must be something he had done or not done to push his mother out. People didn't just up and leave their families for no good reason, and in Rory's head 'finding another man' was just not a good reason. Besides, if she really wanted to be a family, surely she would have said Rory could stay with her? 

It wasn't normal to want to leave your kids behind, surely. Unless those kids were really awful, people fought over them. Rory had seen them at it; occasionally other people in Leadworth had divorced, and the parents had always said to the kids 'who do you want to go with?' and bribed them with sweets and toys and outings to try and win them over. If Rory's mother was just leaving him behind then he must be part of the problem. Hot tears ran down his cheeks again at the thought.

There was a knock on his door.

'I'm not here!' he shouted, his voice thick with emotion.

'Of course you are, you great idiot,' Amelia shouted back. 'Your dad said you were here.'

Rory groaned. Amelia never let up when she wanted something and he knew he'd have to let her in. 'Just a minute,' he called. He wiped his cheeks, then reluctantly opened his door.

'You look terrible,' Amelia said in a matter of fact tone that brooked no argument.

'Yeah,' Rory agreed.

She stared at him in shock. 'You're not going to tell me I'm wrong?' she asked.

'No, not today. I can't be bothered. What do you want?'

'I thought we could play raggedy doctor, but you're acting weird.'

Rory sighed. Raggedy doctor was Amelia's favourite game, but he didn't feel he could do it justice today. To his horror, tears started leaking out of his eyes again. He pressed his lips together, and turned away from her, desperate to hold the tears in and not let Amelia see him so weak. Unfortunately, he was a beat too late.

'Rory! What's wrong?' Amelia asked, giving him a tentative pat on the shoulder.

'My Mum's gone,' he blurted out as the tears finally burst through his careful defences.

Amelia stared at him in consternation. 'Gone where?'

'I dunno. Away with some bloke. She doesn't want me anymore.'

Amelia's face darkened with rage; she looked ready to take on the world – or at least Rory's mum – to defend his honour. 'I don't believe it. Why wouldn't she want you? Look at you – you're awesome!'

This elicited a watery chuckle from Rory. 

'Thanks. But she's gone and she doesn't want me to go with her, so you know ...'

'I'll be your mum,' she stated staunchly. 'I'll look after you and make you breakfast and tie your shoelaces and do all those mum things.'

Rory stared at her in horror. 'No you won't. I'm not a baby; I can do those things myself. Besides, you have to live in your own house,' he added pragmatically.

Amelia sighed. 'Well, whatever. I'll look after you anyway. And you'll look after me. I only have Aunt Sharon and she's useless. We don't need grown ups, Rory. We have each other.' She sat beside him on the bed and took his hand. 'And your dad. He's cool; we can keep him around for the important stuff, like food and that.'

For the first time, Rory smiled. She was right. They had each other, and of course she knew what it was like to have no parents around. His mum may be gone, but Amelia was right – his dad was still there, and Amelia herself. 

'Rory!' His dad called up the stairs. 'Rory, your mum's here and she wants to talk to you.'

Amelia squeezed his hand. 'Good luck, Rory. Remember, no matter what … you and I – we've got each other.'

Rory squeezed back, and went downstairs to see his mother. With Amelia's encouragement he knew he could ask her all the questions that were swirling around in his head. He felt calmer now and ready to hear what his mother had to say.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new girl in town and Rory finds her just a little bit intimidating

Rory kicked his ball.  It skidded sideways and bounced off Mrs Bradford’s picket fence, landing square-on in the middle of her petunias.  Blushing, Rory stepped carefully over her flowers to retrieve the ball.  He hoped no-one had noticed as he hopped back onto the footpath to carry on towards Amy’s house; this time the ball was tucked safely under his arm.

 

Unfortunately, the new kid who had just moved in across the road was staring at him forthrightly from her porch.  Her foot was swaying casually in the dirt and she looked as if she found Rory funny – and not in a good way.  He blushed again and scampered onwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and her as possible.  She made him uneasy; she was obviously confident and self-assured even from the smallest observation.  Her self-assurance was nothing like the village’s other children’s, even Amelia’s; this kid was almost adult-like in her poise.

 

‘Wait,’ he heard her shout behind him, but ignored her, keeping his head down and his gaze focused on the ground in front of him, hoping he could get past without having to speak with her.

 

‘Watch out!’ Amelia’s voice was amused and exasperated.  He looked up to find her right in front of him.

 

‘Sorry.  I was just …’ he flapped his hand around, trying to convey a sense of urgent, important business that was hastening his steps.  Amelia rolled her eyes at him.

 

‘Hello,’ the new kid said, her tones also amused as she strolled up to them.

 

‘Hi,’ Amelia said brightly, looking the new girl up and down, taking in her ripped jeans, faded trainers and leopard-print top.  She seemed to approve of what she saw.  ‘What’s your name?’

 

‘Melody,’ the girl said.  ‘It’s a bit of a crap name, innit?’  Her eyes were twinkling as if she was having a huge joke on them, which made Rory uncomfortable.  He didn’t like feeling out of the loop, and this girl exuded an aura of sharing an in joke with the universe, one which he very much feared was at his expense.

 

‘It’s a bit unusual, yeah,’ he said quickly, trying to cover for feeling so out of sorts but sure he was just coming across as nervous and daft.

 

‘I’m Amelia, this is Rory,’ Amelia put her hand out formally.  Rory stared at her in shock; she hadn’t greeted him that way when they met.  In fact, he couldn’t remember Amelia being this formal with _anyone_ , not even adults she was supposed to respect.  Melody took Amelia’s hand and shook it solemnly, still with that indefinable sense of superiority and a smirk which suggested she was humouring them. 

 

‘We’re just off to play football.  Want to join us?’ Amelia asked. 

 

Melody shrugged and fell in behind them, her presence making Rory feel distinctly uncomfortable.  This was worse than the day he’d first met Amelia.  Amelia had made him anxious that day, but she was also warm and friendly when she’d let her prickly guard drop.  Melody was putting him completely off-kilter with the ever-present smirk and her confidence – she either had no guard or wasn’t about to let it drop. 

 

‘I’d better be going home, Amelia,’ he said a couple of hours later, his voice and stance diffident – he was always nervous when he had to go home, never sure how Amelia would react.  ‘Dad’s expecting me at five.’

 

Amelia waved her fingers at him as he scurried over to pick the ball up, but her attention was all on the vibrant new girl who took as much delight in pushing boundaries as Amelia herself.  Rory could hear Melody talking behind him as he headed out of the tiny park.

 

‘He’s a bit rubbish, isn’t he?  You seem cool … why do you hang out with him?’

 

‘Nah, Rory’s ok.  Mostly.  When you get to know him.’  Amelia’s voice was cool, and a little dismissive.  ‘What do you want to do now?’

 

Rory’s heart sank.  It was obvious Amelia and Melody got on well.  It was equally obvious that Rory _didn’t_ get on so well with Melody.  How long before he lost his best friend to this new girl? It hadn’t escaped Rory’s attention that ‘mostly ok’ wasn’t a ringing endorsement of his personality, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious.  Amelia loved adventure; Rory didn’t but he would go along with it to please her.  Now, he could tell that Melody would happily keep up with Amelia’s flights of fancy, and that Rory, whose commitment to her crazier schemes was half-hearted at best, could soon become unnecessary.  His feet were heavy as he dragged himself home.

 

When he left his house the next morning he found Melody waiting outside.  He started and looked around nervously, completely bewildered that she was there.

 

‘Hello, loser.  Whatcha up to?’  Melody pushed herself off the wall she had been leaning on and wandered up to Rory.

 

‘How did you know where I live?’ 

 

Melody shrugged.  ‘I’ve been paying attention, and it’s not like this place is so huge it’s exactly difficult.’

 

‘I guess.’  Rory flushed.  The way she said ‘huge’ suggested experience with much bigger places and a sort of condescending attitude towards Leadworth.  Every comment she made set Rory’s hackles up and he couldn’t help feeling defensive and awkward.

 

‘So.  What are you doing?’  She asked again as he started walking.

 

‘Going to find Amelia,’ Rory said, all his defensiveness clear in his tone.

 

‘Don’t you have other friends?’  Melody looked incredulous.  ‘What about other boys?’  She looked him up and down, taking in his small build and delicate features.  ‘Well … if you even are a boy.’

 

Yep.  Definitely didn’t like her, Rory decided.  He ignored her barb and carried on walking, his hands bunched in his pockets and his shoulders hunched defensively against her onslaught.

 

Melody grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.  ‘Look.  I don’t know many people here and I want to be friends with Amelia because she looks to be the coolest person this dead-end place has.’  She eyed him with disdain, and gave a theatrical sigh.  ‘It seems like you come as a package so I need to be friends with you, too, even if you are a wuss.  So.  What do you say?  Will you be my friend?’ 

 

Rory gaped at her, horrified.  He really didn’t want to spend time with Melody, but he also knew Amelia did whatever she liked and it seemed she had already taken up with Melody.  If he didn’t agree to hang out with her, he knew he’d be limiting his access to his best friend.  He sighed.

 

‘Rory! Mels! Perfect.  I was just looking for you both.’  Amelia came panting up to them.  ‘I have the best idea for what we can do today!’  She linked her arms with both of the others and dragged them with her.

 

It seemed Rory’s decision had been made for him.  Melody was going to be Amelia’s friend and it appeared like that meant she was going to be his friend too.  This was the first time Amelia had met anyone else she wanted as a friend and Rory wasn’t prepared for just how fast she had wrapped Melody into her sphere.  He tended to take his friendships slowly, building up trust and confidence over time, so the speed with which his most important relationship was changing had set him totally off-balance.  Rory tried not to let either of them see just how terrifying he found this new acquaintance, and allowed himself to be pulled into Amy’s madcap adventure in the nearby forest. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory learns to stand up for himself

He was blindfolded again. It was always stressful being shut away with no light and having to trust other people to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. Rory didn't like it, not one bit, and he really didn't trust Mels. Amy was different; he was pretty sure she wouldn't let him hurt himself, but Mels (he gritted his teeth as he thought of her) ... Mels was terrifying. 

'Oi Rory! Stop playing around and get on with it.' Mels' voice was authoritative and a bit smug. Rory knew she felt superior to him because he always let them do this sort of thing to him. But it was the price of being friends with Amy, and for some reason he couldn’t quite fathom it was becoming desperately important to him to keep Amy as a friend.

He sighed, stretched his arms out to the sides and started to gingerly move forward again. This was the worst part of this game – that he wasn't allowed his arms in front of him. 'Little bit to the left, Rory!' Amy's voice called out, the tone uninterested and desultory. He took two steps sideways and felt his arm brush a brick wall as he did so. He stopped, shocked. He'd been so close to walking into a wall before Amy told him, and she'd been so casual and blasé about it when she finally had bothered to let him know there could be a problem.

Rory ripped the blindfold off his face and glared at the two girls. They were a few feet away, chatting idly with their heads together.

'I'm not doing this anymore.' He announced. He turned and walked away, expecting that someone (hopefully Amy, he thought with a blush) would rush after him, demand to know why and ask him to stay in the game. Instead he got all the way to the classroom door before he turned and looked back. The two girls were still where he had left them, heads still together. Neither one looked as if she had even noticed that he was gone.

Rory's mouth twisted briefly in grief, then he turned his back on the girls and pushed his way into the classroom.

When they returned at the end of break he was sitting reading a book at his desk.

'What's up, loser?' Mels crowed as she slid into the seat on one side of him. Rory pointedly ignored her.

'Rory? What's the matter? Where did you go?' Amy was more conciliatory.

'I'm sick of that game,' Rory said, making an effort to keep his voice even so she wouldn't notice how important this was to him. 'I don't think I'm playing anymore. Exams are coming. I need to study.'

'Whatever! Who cares about exams?' Mels, leaned back in her seat, arms slung behind her head, looking as if she had no cares in the world. Rory again refused to interact with her. He knew he was being petty, but there was something satisfying in just absolutely not dealing with Mels. He felt ... almost free.

He snuck a look at Amy out of the corner of his eye, just in time to see her quirk her brow at Mels over the top of his head. Then she shrugged and pulled her own work out of her desk as the teacher entered the room.

Rory smiled to himself. It wasn't much of a victory, but he'd stood up to his best friends, who – when he thought about it – often didn't seem to treat him very well. If he could do it once he could keep doing it.

Over the next few weeks, Rory refused to play the blindfold game. Amy used all the tools in her arsenal – she cajoled him, she berated him, she ignored him, she even tried to guilt-trip him into doing it, but Rory planted his feet. He refused to be put in a position where he could hurt himself again. And slowly the girls grew to accept that he wasn't Rory the total pushover anymore.

'You've changed, Rory,' Mels mused one afternoon when Amy had been called home and the two of them were left in the orchard alone.

'No I haven't, Mels. I'm still me; I've just stopped giving a damn what you think of me.'

'Yep, see. Changed. You'd never have said that to me last year.'

'No I wouldn't,' Rory agreed. 'But I'd have thought it.' He grinned at her. 'You'd hate to know some of the things I've thought about you in the past.'

Mels sat up and looked at him. 'Like what?' she challenged. Rory's heart beat with a sickening thud in his chest. He still hated confrontation, and even though he'd arrived at this point he wasn't sure he wanted to finish what he’d begun. But he could tell from the look in Mels' eyes that she wasn't going to let him get away with saying nothing.

'Okay then,' he said, his voice unhappy, but slightly relieved to be actually saying it. 'I thought you were a hard cow; bossy, bitchy and a shitty friend.'

He squinted at her, worried she would be angry, but to his surprise she laughed.

'I am a bossy, bitchy, shitty friend,' she said. I've been waiting for you to call me on it for ages. I never thought you'd have the guts.'

She lay back down next to him. 'I think you're okay, Rory. A bit wussy sometimes, but a decent bloke.'

'Thanks,' Rory said, his voice wry. 'That's a compliment ...'

'Oh it is,' Mels agreed. 'I used to think you were just wet, but now you've got a backbone I kinda like you.' She looked at him with a sly expression. 'You like her, don't you? Amy.'

Rory gaped at her. 'How did you? I mean ... I don't know what you're talking about.'

Mels laughed again. 'Sure you do. I approve, you know. Now that I know you're not a wimp. I couldn’t have a wimp as my …’ she coughed, looking suddenly uncomfortable before continuing. ‘Well, anyway, Amy deserves someone as awesome as her. I’m not going to help you, but I just want you to know you have my blessing.'

Rory shut his mouth and looked at her carefully. Something had changed and he felt like he had an ally now. He wasn't sure why she was different now, but he wasn't questioning it. That she knew he liked Amy wasn't as threatening as he expected. He dismissed her ‘blessing’ – he didn’t want her help or need her blessing, but something changed that day and Rory felt like he’d passed some invisible test and that now he and Mels were genuinely friends … finally.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory and Amy play 'raggedy doctor' with surprising results.

Dressed in his customary clothes of blue shirt – ripped up – a purple tie and a pair of shredded old trousers, Rory was lying down under an apple tree in his neighbours' yard.  They were away, and whenever they left the village, Amelia always dragged him into their garden to play 'raggedy doctor' – it was her favourite spot.  It had all the romance of the adventure she desired, but was private enough that people seldom bothered them when they were in there.  Rory was grateful.  He knew that people thought he was just as mad as Amelia because he humoured her and let her dress him up like the doctor she was always dreaming about.

'Tell me again how you met the doctor?' he said.

Amelia flipped over onto her stomach next to him and squinted at him, probably to see if he was serious.  She never quite believed that he believed her.  Which, Rory mused, was fair enough considering that he really … kind of _didn't_ believe her.  He put on his most trustworthy expression, and smiled at her encouragingly. 

'Why do you keep wanting to know?' she asked, and he could hear a hint of accusation in her voice.

'I don't know.  I like hearing you talk about it.'  Rory knew he shouldn't mention that what he really liked about it was Amelia's passion, the way her face lit up and she vibrated with energy when she talked about the raggedy doctor.  He loved watching the way her expressive face chased one mood after another – from the grouchy Amelia who first met the weird man who couldn't walk straight, through the exasperated Amelia who couldn't find the right thing to feed the man, through excited Amelia who wanted to run away to the stars with him. 

Amelia smiled at him, then rolled over onto her back.  She couched her hands behind her head and started talking.  Rory lay on his side, head resting on one arm so he could trace the emotions as they moved across her face. He lost himself in the moment, and was startled when she poked him.  He squinted at her in confusion.  She had clearly either finished her narrative while he was lost in thought, or she had stopped because she'd lost interest in her tale. 

'We need to play more, Rory.  The raggedy doctor hasn't saved the earth from Prisoner Zero yet!' 

Rory sighed.  It was always the same when they played her game.  He was given certain lines to say and always, _always_ he had to save the world from Prisoner Zero.  He was bored of playing the same old game every single time.  He got to his feet reluctantly and then decided to do something differently today, just to see how Amelia would react. 

She directed him to his customary position behind a tree and pranced off to her spot behind a nearby shed.  

'Oh! I wonder what that big blue box in my garden is,' she said in strident, unnatural tones.  'I must go out and see what it could be.'

Rory took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the tree.  'I am the raggedy doctor,' he said, placing his hands on his hips and sticking his chest out.  'I am here to save the universe from earth's puny citizens.'

'No! No no no no!!' Amelia stamped her feet.  'You're not doing it right!  You're supposed to be saving the earth from Prisoner Zero.  Do it properly.' Her lip pouted out in a stubborn frown, and Rory's heart twisted anxiously.  However he said, 'I don't want to.  I want to do something different.'  He caught Amelia's aghast expression and softened his words a little.  'I mean ... I want the doctor to do something different.  Why does it always have to be Prisoner Zero?  Why not some other alien?'

Amelia's face crumpled.  'Because it was Prisoner Zero and the weird eye that he saved me from.'  She sat down in an abrupt heap and Rory, concerned, carefully sat next to her.  'I didn't tell you this before, but I was praying to Santa to help me when the raggedy doctor came.  I feel like,' she squirmed a bit, and glanced at him with an uncharacteristically shy expression, 'like he was sent to help me and that means he'll be back.  I need to be ready when he comes.' 

A small tear slid down Amelia's face.  'But I guess it's stupid.  You think it's stupid.'

'No, I don't,' Rory said.  'I think it's fine.  I just think there are other things he would do if he was from space.  He's not going to want to always be saving people from Prisoner Zero.  He'll want to save them from other stuff too, and maybe ... maybe a bit of difference would make you even more ready if ... I mean when, he comes.'

Amelia looked at him for a long moment.  'You don't think I'm mental then? 

'Of course I do,' Rory said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  'But it's a fun mental, and anyway ... I think everyone's a bit mental.  Or at least the fun and interesting ones are. 

With a watery smile on her face, Amelia lunged towards Rory.  She caught him unawares with the kiss she planted on his lips, but he recovered quickly.  He lost himself in the feeling of her body against his, but eventually had to pull back for air.

'I'm not complaining, but ... why?' 

'Because you're you, and you're lovely and you humour me.' 

She pulled him down to lie on the grass next to her, then snuggled into his side with a contented sigh.  In the distance, Rory could hear the Macarena being played and raucous laughter spilling out of another neighbour’s house.  Amelia stirred beside him, a blinding smile lighting her face as she pecked his lips again.  ‘This’ll be our song now,’ she grinned.  ‘Now you definitely need to learn how to dance properly.’  Rory smiled at her, knowing that he _would_ be learning just because it made her happy. 

Amelia sat up quickly and pulled on his arm.  ‘Come on, Rory, we really should go back home.  You know how your dad worries.’  The frayed fabric of his raggedy shirt ripped even further and Amelia grimaced as she looked at it, a sad smile on her face. 

'I'm not going to be Amelia anymore,' she said after a few moments.  'It's a bit fairytale, don't you think?  I like Amy better.  That's a real name for a real person, a grown-up person.' 

Rory barely heard the last words she whispered to herself as she dragged him in the direction of his house.  'Besides, he isn't coming and it's time to lose all the fairytales.'

 


	7. Chapter 7

Rory could see Amy in the distance, her flaming hair standing out against the brilliant green of the grass on the common.  She was flirting with Jeff, and Rory felt a pang rip through his heart as he looked at her.  She looked so happy, her face vibrant as she threw her head back and laughed at something Jeff said.  She lowered her lashes and looked up at Jeff, her body swaying back and forth as she moved closer, obviously trying to get him to do something for her.  Rory looked away, a weird ache surrounding his heart.  She was never going to look at him like that and it was time to stop pretending that she would.  Anyway, he had his future to focus on and there was no room for unrequited love. 

He heard a slight cough behind him and spun around, desperately hoping whoever it was would not notice that he had been staring at Amy.  He quickly squinted slightly to the left of where Amy was now snuggling up to Jeff, her hand in this.

‘Mels!’ he choked out.  ‘I … um … was just admiring Mrs Turner’s roses.’  He gestured in the vague direction of the Turner cottage, which were indeed a riot of colourful rose bushes.  ‘They’re looking great, aren’t they?’ 

She gave him an exasperated look then tossed her head in Amy’s direction.  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.  Just tell her you like her.’

‘I can’t!’  Rory could hear the strident tone in his voice and winced.  He tried to cover his panic by examining his shoes.  They had scuffed already, he noticed, frowning as the irrelevant thought fluttered through his mind.  They’d been newly bought just last week.

‘Of course you can!’  Mels said, breaking his concentration.  ‘It’s easy.  I’ll even tell you what to say. Here, like this:’ She flipped her braids off her face and simpered up at him, her eyelashes fluttering in exaggerated loops.  ‘Oh Amy, I dig you.  So much.  You and I should totally make babies together …’  

Her saccharine sweet voice made Rory wince again and he could feel the heat rise in his cheeks at the idea of making babies with Amy but he shook his head firmly. 

‘No.  I mean, I can’t.  I … I’ll be leaving soon.  I can’t …’

‘What do you mean leaving?’  Mels asked, her tone genuinely shocked.  ‘You love it here!  You’re like small-village poster boy material.  I keep expecting you to take root since you’re so into this place.’ 

‘Yeah what do you mean leaving?’  Amy’s voice chipped in.  It was breathy and slightly high – Rory could hear the slight panic in her tone, though he suspected no-one else would notice it.  She’d obviously left Jeff behind somewhere and come to see her friends.  Rory turned quickly to meet her eyes, hoping like hell she hadn’t heard Mels pretending to be him. 

‘I didn’t want you to find out like this, but …’ he took a deep breath then let it out slowly.  ‘I’ve been accepted to nursing school.  I’m going to university.’  He could feel a grin spreading over his face as he imparted his momentous news.  Amy looked like she was trying hard to be happy.  Her face flashed a raw pain, but then quickly smoothed out into a smile.  It was very good and Rory was pretty sure only someone who knew her as well as he did would know there was anything amiss.  He pulled her into a hug. 

‘Amy … It’s only Gloucester.  I’m not going far.  I promise I’ll be here.’  He could feel her trembling under his arms, but she slapped his back playfully. 

‘Like I care, stupid.  You can do what you want.’  She pulled back far enough to look into his eyes again.

Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she gave his arm another playful slap 

‘I’ll miss you, you know,’ he said, giving her another slight hug. 

‘I know.’ 

Rory knew that was as close as she would get to saying, ‘I’ll miss you too.’  He grinned back, all his attention focussed on Amy. 

‘Oh God, get a room you two!  Seriously, this is just revolting!’ 

Blushing, Rory pulled away from Amy and grimaced.  Mels didn’t get it, much as she liked to think she did.  This was the one point where Amy ever showed her vulnerability – she had an extreme phobia of being abandoned.  Ever since he’d first met her as the hard as nails girl with no parents and an aunt who barely took notice of her, she had been touchy about getting close to people.  ‘They just leave me anyway,’ she’d said in defiant tones when they met.  ‘You’ll bugger off one day.  Everyone always does.’  Mels … for some reason Rory never understood, Amy had been different with Mels.  She’d been included in their small circle almost as soon as she’d appeared in the village when they were nine.  It was almost as if she’d always been there, always been part of the three of them.  But it did mean that she didn’t know this part of Amy.  In fact, Rory thought he was probably the only person in existence who _did_ know it. 

‘Don’t be such a dick, Mels.’  Amy said, her face a set mask as she glared at Mels. 

‘Woah, alright.  Don’t get all wound up, I was just joking.’ 

‘Yeah?  You mean the way you were just joking the other day when you got chucked in detention for the fifteenth time this year?’

‘Oh, give it a rest.  You’re no angel and this sanctimoniousness is just booooring.’

‘She’s right though, Mels.  You can’t keep getting into trouble like this.  This is your last year of school.  How on earth are you going to get a job if you can’t keep your nose clean at school for five minutes?’ 

‘God, seriously.  Just give it a rest.  You’re not my dad, you know …’ 

‘I know, I … I just …’ Rory trailed off as Mels started sniggering.  ‘What?’ 

‘Sorry.  Nothing.  It’s nothing.  Look, can we give this a rest now?  That was agggges ago and we have something to celebrate.’ 

She grabbed Amy’s arm and pushed Rory in front of her.  ‘We’re going to go get some hot chips.  Rory, you idiot – why didn’t you tell us before?’

‘I only just found out,’ Rory said.  ‘I was just coming to say something.’ 

He caught Amy’s eye over Mels’ head.  She looked as frustrated as he felt.  Much as they loved Mels, and they admitted that love often in private, she was getting more and more out of control.  It sometimes felt like she was goading them, trying to push them past the point where they would give up on her.  He shrugged and she smiled at him, agreeing silently that they needed to try to pull Mels in a bit.  He knew he wasn’t her father, but there were sure some days when it felt like he was.  For all she was their age, she acted like a tiny child pushing her parents’ boundaries.

He pushed the door of the chip shop open, and stood back to let Mels and Amy squeeze past.  Mels rolled her eyes at him then slinked over to the counter where her newest crush was working.  She began flirting outrageously, making the poor girl blush.  Amy followed, looking resigned.  Trailing behind the girls to order his chips, Rory just hoped the next boundary push wouldn’t land Mels in prison the way she so often landed in the Headmaster’s Office. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

‘I really enjoyed myself today, Rory,’ Jane said shyly as she slipped her hand into his.  They were walking along beside the river after having dinner at a nearby restaurant.  Rory had asked her out on impulse at class one day because he had really enjoyed getting to know her and had found her gentle personality something of a refuge after a whirlwind day with Amy.  He’d been nervous, mostly because – as stupid as it was – he felt it was a betrayal of his feelings for Amy.  But Amy had made it clear she didn’t see him as anything other than a friend and Rory felt like it was time to move on.  Not from her friendship, obviously, and any woman he had a relationship with would need to understand how much Amy meant to him.  But he couldn’t keep pining for his best friend forever.

Rory glanced sideways at Jane and smiled.  Her eyes were fixed firmly on the ground and a pink blush stained her cheeks. 

‘I did too,’ he admitted.  He had thought this might be difficult, that speaking to her outside class might be stilted and awkward.  It hadn’t been. They had talked, laughed and shared jokes.  The food had gone cold on the table between them as they ignored it in favour of getting to know each other. 

She smiled up at him then leaned her head on his arm, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder.   As her head rested against him her hand twisted slightly in his and Rory felt a sudden swoop in the pit of his stomach.  He stopped walking.  Jane pulled back and looked up at him in concerned query.  He bent down and captured her lips with his own.  The swoop blossomed into a warmth that exploded out through his chest as she slipped her arms around his waist and kissed him back.  After a few minutes he straightened up, reluctantly, as his back protested the height difference between them, but leaving his arms still looped around her back.

‘That was nice,’ she said, her eyes crinkling.

‘Yeah it was,’ he said.  ‘I don’t want this to end.  Should we … walk more?’  He gestured towards the path they had been walking.  The evening was getting cooler and the sun had started to set, coating the greenery around them in a warm glow and casting a purple tone over the nearby buildings.

‘We could walk more or we could go somewhere more … private.’  The blush was back on Jane’s cheeks but she was looking him firmly in the eye.  It hadn’t occurred to Rory to take her home, but he didn’t need to be asked twice.  What better way to put Amy firmly out of his mind than by sleeping with someone else?  Pushing aside the knowledge that this was extremely unfair to Jane, who seemed to genuinely like him, Rory gulped and nodded.  He took her hand again and led her back to his car.

‘Should we go to my place, then?  She asked.  ‘It’s just it’s a bit closer than yours.’

‘Sure,’ Rory agreed without hesitation.  Her place sounded good – much less chance there of running into Amy or anyone who might mention this to her.  Rory didn’t know how he felt about Jane, but he was strangely reluctant to let anyone know about this moment.  He had an idea that Amy wouldn’t react very well, though why that would be he wasn’t quite sure.

As they drove off, Rory’s favourite song came on the CD player.  He hummed along guiltily – this was the album he and Amy had chosen together, the one she always teased him about because it was much heavier than anything else he listened to.  The song even reminded him painfully of Amy: ‘she is the butcher, she wants the air, she hides the scars under her hair’ – Amy definitely had scars on top of metaphorical scars that she carefully hid from the world.  Jane was silent beside him and he glanced over at her.

‘You alright?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, just thinking.’  She said.  She was silent for a few moments, then added, ‘I don’t usually do this … not this soon, I mean.’

‘No.  Me too.  I mean, I don’t either.’  Rory stammered.  In fact, he’d never done this at all, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up.  Did you just blurt this sort of thing out?  Like … ‘hey, this is my first time with a woman, be gentle with me’?  It seemed somewhat shameful that he’d gotten to this age without having sex with someone.  At that thought, terror gripped him and his hands slid on the steering wheel.  He certainly hadn’t been expecting this when he asked the shy nursing student to go on a date with him; he’d had no time to plan or work himself up to this.

‘It’s just …’ Jane stopped and took a breath and he glanced over at her.  ‘I really like you, Rory.  I noticed you right from the first day in class and I’ve been really glad we got to know each other better.  You’re a really nice guy – a keeper, my Gran used to say.’

Guilt twisted in Rory’s heart.  It sounded like Jane expected something long term but Rory wasn’t sure what he wanted.  He was having a very pleasant time with Jane, and kissing her was certainly very nice, but he didn’t feel like this was someone he’d be spending the rest of his life with and it seemed distinctly unfair to go into this knowing he was still caught up in Amy and knowing he was unlikely to be with Jane long term.  Obviously Rory knew, from discussions with other guys, that sex didn’t have to be about forever but he did feel that maybe it would be fairer for someone like Jane if he was honest with her.

They pulled up outside her house and he quickly shut the engine off.  In the sudden silence Rory made up his mind.

‘Jane, look.  I’ve not been entirely honest with you.’  He carefully avoided looking at her but he could feel her eyes on him.  ‘I’m not experienced.  I mean … I haven’t …’ He shrugged uncomfortably.  ‘And I’m not even sure how I feel about all this, I mean about me … and you’ he waved his hands between them, trying to illustrate whatever it was that was sitting between them.  He bit his lip and risked looking at her again.  ‘Look, if you want to tell me to bugger off, I understand.’

Jane laughed, the sound a little bitter.  ‘It sounds like you’re the one who wants to bugger off.’

‘No.  No, I don’t.  I’m just … not used to this.  I’m not sure what to do …’ he trailed off miserably, thinking of how much easier this would be with Amy.  For a start she’d be taking charge, not sitting back and waiting for him to make the move.  He reminded himself that Amy didn’t want him and Jane did.  She liked him, she’d never insulted him and they had a lot in common.  Why not see if this could become ‘something’?  They had fun together, after all, and if he was going to forget Amy he had to start somewhere.  Just because he wasn’t madly in love right now, that didn’t mean he couldn’t grow into it and Jane was the type of woman his dad was always telling him he should be looking for.  Nice, sensible and stable.  The message had always been clear even though never articulated: not someone like Amy, not someone impulsive, unpredictable, and flashy.

Determined to stop thinking of Amy, Rory leaned over and kissed Jane again.

‘That’s a good start,’ she whispered a few minutes later as they pulled apart, breathless.  ‘Come on, let’s go inside.  It’s getting cold out here.’

Rory nodded and allowed her to twine her fingers with his as they walked up to the door.  He still wasn’t sure what he wanted out of this, but he was willing to try to make it work.


	9. Chapter 9

‘Rory! Hey, Rory!’ Amy’s voice was cajoling as she called him and he turned in the direction it was coming from, his heart sinking a little.  He’d known this was coming and he was dreading this conversation.

She ran across the Common to him, then linked her arm around his as they moved off together.

‘Sooooo, you’ve been away a bit lately.  What’s up?’ she gave him her flirtiest smile and his heart clenched.  No matter how much he had tried with Jane, Rory knew at the bottom of his heart that it was never going to last. Amy had just had too much of a hold on his heart for too long, and he wasn’t being fair to Jane by seeing her when he knew it wasn’t working. 

‘Nothing.  Nothing’s up.  Why would something be up?’  Rory knew he was stammering but he couldn’t keep the hint of defensiveness out of his voice.  He’d been avoiding Amy a bit because he didn’t want to tell her about Jane; he still had that sense that she would react badly and since he was unsure about the relationship as it stood he didn’t want to talk about it with Amy 

Still, he’d always known this day would come.  He usually shared everything with Amy so it was obvious she would notice when things changed.  He could see Amy’s eyes narrow with suspicion and he sighed 

‘There _is_ something wrong with you, Rory.  You’re not … yourself.  And I want to know why.’  There was a petulant tone to her voice, but under it Rory could hear her fear.  Fear that something _was_ wrong with him.  Fear that he was pulling away from her, like so many people had in the past 

He sighed, knowing he had to alleviate her fears, ran his hands through his hair and looked her in the eye.  Then took a deep breath.

‘Okay. I didn’t want to tell you this, but … I’ve been seeing someone.’ 

Amy gasped and dropped her arm from his.  ‘What?  How long has this been going on for?’  She turned away from him.  ‘Why didn’t you want to tell me?’ her voice was soft and the hurt was back in even greater depth.  Rory grabbed her arm and pulled her around to look at him 

‘I didn’t tell you because it’s not working out so there didn’t seem to be any point.’  His voice quivered as he said it.  He longed to just blurt out how he felt about her, but he couldn’t.  He did scan her face for some sign of how she felt about this but she looked the same as ever.  Her brows creased and she frowned at him. 

‘What do you mean it’s not working out?’  

‘I mean … I’m not … I’m not …’ he flapped his arms around, trying to find the words to explain what was not right about his relationship. 

Amy nodded, her tension leaching away.  ‘Yeah. I know that feeling.  Some of my boyfriends have been really great guys, but not, you know …’ 

Rory nodded.  He did know.  He started walking again but stopped when Amy thumped him, hard, on the arm. 

‘What was that for?’  He rubbed the spot and glared at her. 

‘You should have told me, idiot.  I’m your friend.  I’d have been pleased for you.’

Rory nodded to himself.  Amy being pleased he had a girlfriend was slightly distressing, even though he’d always known she didn’t feel the same way about him.  Still, her friendship meant everything to him.  He hadn't wanted to jeopardise it. 

‘Yeah. I dunno. It felt weird – like if I talked about it it’d become real and I’d have to decide, you know, if it was going to carry on.’ 

Amy linked arms with him again and grinned. 

‘Well, if you’re really not feeling it you _should_ talk about it.  No point being with someone you really don’t want to be with.’  She tapped his forehead as she pulled him into walking beside her.  ‘You should be happy, doofus.’ 

Rory sighed and nodded.  ‘You’re right.  I’m not that happy.  I should …’ he trailed off, feeling miserable.  ‘I just don’t want to hurt …’  

Amy slapped his arm.  ‘So it’s better to hurt yourself?  You really _are_ an idiot!’ 

Rory thought about the conversation for the next few days.  Amy was right.  He’d tried to make it work with Jane and he did genuinely like her, but he wasn’t in love and the guilt he was feeling meant he really wasn’t enjoying himself.  It was true, he realised; he was unhappy.  And it came back to fairness – this wasn’t fair on Jane, or on him.  So he made up his mind: he had to tell her and it had to be sooner rather than later.  The longer he let this run, the worse it was going to get. 

The next time Rory saw Jane, a beautiful sunny day in autumn, he steeled himself.  She looked so radiant to see him as she ran up to him and hugged him tight, and Rory’s hands began to shake.  He didn’t hug her back.  Jane pulled back and looked at him in confusion, her arms still looped around his neck. 

‘Rory, what’s wrong?’ 

He gaped at her for a long moment, his heart thudding unpleasantly in his chest as he looked at her.  He blushed.  ‘I …’ he carefully removed her hands from his neck and stepped back.  ‘I’m-not-sure-this-is-working,’ he rushed out.

Jane stared at him for a long moment, then said, ‘there’s someone else isn’t there?’ 

‘No,’ Rory said sadly.  ‘Not like that anyway.  I just don’t …’ he sighed.  ‘Look, I really like you and I enjoy being with you, but …’ 

‘But you don’t love me.’  Jane nodded, her eyes wet but her voice firm and steady.  ‘I always knew it, but I hoped …’ She took a deep breath and smiled at him.  ‘Well, no point making this more uncomfortable than it already is.’  She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.  ‘See you round, Rory.’

Rory watched her walk away, her head high but a stiffness in her steps that belied her apparent casualness.  A surge of guilt hit him; she had, after all, done nothing wrong.  Her only crime was that she wasn’t Amy.  Rory had a mad desire to run after her and ask her to stay, but he kept himself in place.  He reminded himself that it was fairer this way – both to him and to her.  She deserved far better than someone who didn’t love her.  As she disappeared into the distance, Rory grimaced.  It was a pity that he couldn’t give himself the same kindness.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was one of those glorious spring days you read about in books all the time, but which in reality only happen once every couple of years.  The blossom was out and birds warbled in the trees.  The grass was that spectacular shade of green that only comes when the sun finally shines on a damp place after a long winter, allowing all the latent seeds to burst into lush glory.  Rory was lying in his bedroom, knowing he should go out and enjoy the day but unsure exactly what to do when he was out.  He picked up a book and tried to read before tossing it aside a few moments later.  He sighed.  He knew where the restlessness was coming from, but he had no idea what to do with it.

It all came back to Amy; it always did.  He couldn't recall a time when he didn't love her.  Actually, Rory grimaced, he could remember it.  Before that fateful game of football he'd been slightly scared of her – of her reputation at least.  But that Amy was so different to the one he now knew that he could barely remember that the two were the same person.  The problem was, Amy still seemed to treat him the way she had that day; with a mixture of abrasiveness and affection.  She certainly showed no signs of being in love with him.  There was that one kiss when they were thirteen, which Rory had treasured in memory for years, but she’d never even hinted she wanted to kiss him again.  What’s more, she now made her living by kissing people – kissing, for Amy, was clearly not what it was for most people.  Rory sighed once more. 

What he should do, Rory knew, was just go to her and say 'Amy, I like you and I want you to be my girlfriend.'  Except he knew he would never do it.  His insides twisted in painful agony every time he thought about approaching the subject.  He imagined all the scenarios her response might take – and too many of them were negative for him to ever be able to put himself on the line like that.  Her friendship meant too much to him to compromise it with an ill-timed and unwelcome declaration of love.  He had once thought that perhaps he should show her how he felt, but when he’d tried she looked at him like he was weird.

'What are you doing, you idiot?' she'd said when he'd tried to casually hold her hand.  He'd pulled it away as if burned and stammered, 'what? Nothing ... I ... accident. 

Amy had given him one long, searching look, then shaken it off and acted like nothing had ever happened.

Rory sighed again.  He was just going to have to try harder to push his feelings away.  Amy was his best friend and he valued everything she had brought to his life – the companionship, the fun, the vitality – too much to jeopardise it now. 

Distantly, he heard the phone trill and a few seconds later his father called up the stairs, 'Rory! Amy wants you to go over.'

Rory rolled himself off his bed and onto his feet.  'Okay,' he called back as he slid his feet into his trainers.  He thudded down the stairs and called a goodbye to his dad in passing.

Amy was waiting outside her house with a big basket.  Rory eyed it as he approached. 

'What's that in aid of?' he asked suspiciously, expecting one of Amy's weird adventures in raggedy-doctorness.  Instead Amy just smiled, and said, 'I thought we could have a picnic.  It's too nice a day to be inside.' 

She led the way out of Leadworth and into the surrounding countryside.  Rory panted after her, wanting to stop but knowing that once Amy had something in her head she'd stick with it til the end. 

Finally she stopped and dropped the basket on the ground.  She sat down and patted the patch of grass next to her.  This wasn’t as lush as the stuff outside Rory's house; it was longer, wilder and filled with some sort of sweet-smelling flower.  Rory was always wary of long grass, unsure of what bugs and other stinging critters might be in it, but he sat down gingerly next to Amy anyway.  He plucked a blade of grass and started twisting it in his hands.  Amy was uncharacteristically quiet beside him. 

'We need to deal with something, Rory.' 

He looked up, startled.  'What?'  He could hear his voice take on the panicked tones it held whenever he thought Amy might be getting close to learning his feelings for her. 

'You. Me.’ Amy's voice was, for once, unsure as she added in an almost-whisper, ‘us.’  Rory looked at her more closely.  Her body language was a clear attempt at a relaxed and casual pose, but he could trace the lines of tension in her.  His heart started thumping and his palms were suddenly damp. 

'Us?'  Rory could hear the fear in his own voice and he winced. 

'Yeah, idiot.  Us.  I ... think I like you.'  She dropped her eyes away from him, her cheeks stained with a blush.  Rory's head swum.  She _liked_ him?  He was stunned into inaction; all he could do was stare at her. 

'Well, say something!' Amy's voice bordered on angry now, and her eyes were fierce.  They jolted Rory out of his stupor.  He leaned over and kissed her.  Her hand flew up to land on his shoulder, and they both slipped sideways, breaking the contact.  Amy laughed. 

'Oh so forceful, Rory; didn't think you had it in you.'  She fluttered her eyelids at him, back to her usual self now that she knew where they stood.  

Rory grinned at her, and said, 'I didn't know you cared.' 

Amy rolled her eyes at him and wriggled out from under him to sit up.  He reluctantly sat up too.  'Of course I care!' she said.  'Why do you think I spend all my time with you?' 

'Because we're friends?' he said. 

Amy rolled her eyes again.  'Men!' she said.  'I haven't been half obvious about it, and I kind of thought you wanted to, but you never did anything about it.' 

'I ... well.  Obvious?  It wasn't obvious to me!' 

'That's obvious,' Amy sniggered.  She took the sting out of her words by kissing him again, far more thoroughly this time.  

'So, are we going to eat something?' she asked eventually.  'Because I think you need your strength for later ...' she winked at him suggestively and Rory's throat went dry.  He nodded and she reached for the basket. 

Rory still didn't know where they stood, but kissing and 'later' was promising.  He was content for now to just live in the moment and accept whatever came along – and hope that whatever that was wouldn’t affect their friendship.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter like this and is solely responsible for the increase in rating.

Rory was startled when Amy grabbed his tie and dragged him away from the party and into the hallway.  He’d been chatting to Mike about something inconsequential and hadn’t even noticed her approaching.  He’d barely had a chance to mutter a goodbye as Amy pushed him through the door, the look on her face serious and intense. 

‘Watch out, Rory, mate. I think you’re in trouble,’ Jeff sniggered as they passed him. 

‘Watch it if you don’t want trouble, too,’ Amy snarled in return and Jeff’s mocking grin was quickly wiped away.  No-one ever pushed Amy when she was in this mood.  Rory wondered what he had done – he was pretty sure the conversation with Mike had been innocuous, but he flushed a little thinking perhaps he’d been a little too accommodating in agreeing with Mike that his new girlfriend was indeed a very good looking woman. 

Rory gasped as Amy pushed him against the wall in a secluded, dark corner and pulled his head down for a hungry kiss.  She was pressed distractingly close to him, and a familiar ache woke in the pit of his stomach as her hands slid caressingly over his shoulders.  He leaned into her kiss, greedy, as always, for more.  Her lips lingered teasingly on his and he could feel himself responding just from the proximity of her body to his.  He groaned as they parted and she pulled back a little. 

‘What brought this on?’ he whispered as her hands ran down his body, causing chills to flow in their wake.  He ran his own hands up her body and Amy sighed, leaning in to his touch.  She always did like it when his hands slid so enticingly close to her breasts. 

‘Shut up, Rory, and kiss me again,’ she murmured. 

He complied, pouring himself into the moment, one hand sliding behind her back to pull her firmly to him, and the other cradling her head as he deepened the kiss.  Suddenly he realised what she was doing with the waistband of his ripped-up trousers. 

‘Amy!’  He choked out, shocked.  ‘We can’t … all these people …’ he waved the hand that wasn’t looped in her hair in the general direction of the party going on in the nearby lounge.

‘I can’t help it,’ Amy ground out, her hands still working on his belt.  ‘You looked so hot I needed to have you right now.’ 

Flattered at being called ‘hot’ – never a word Rory had ever associated with himself – he stopped fighting her for a moment and she took full advantage by prising the belt undone and working on his fly.  Desperate and eager for her touch, yet anxious lest they be caught, Rory found himself unbearably aroused. 

‘See,’ Amy whispered to him as she caught his mouth with hers once again.  ‘You want it too.’ 

‘Of course I do,’ he moaned against her mouth, ‘but not here … not in public.  Amy, what would Aunt Sharon think?’ 

‘Aunt Sharon is not here – and I can’t wait.’  She groaned in frustration at his hesitation.  ‘Rory, just … do this.  For me? Please?’ 

Rory’s body ached for her and he sighed as her hand rested suggestively just above his waistband.  It was a challenge, he knew, and one which he wasn’t sure he could take up – sure, he wanted this right now.  Everything she was doing was perfectly calculated to push him beyond resistance, and he had always been mildly titillated at the idea of public sex.  It was just – the reality was terrifying, and in this group of people Rory knew it would be a matter of hours, at most, before it got back to his father if anyone found them out. 

‘If you do it fast enough, no-one will know,’ she whispered frantically against his lips, as if reading his mind.  She wriggled closer and his fears started to subside in the face of his arousal.  

Gasping with need, he nodded and slipped his hands down to her bottom then under her skirt.  He started in amazement as his fingers met only silky skin and no hint of her usual lace underwear.  Amy giggled at his shock. 

‘I came prepared,’ she said softly, and he laughed unsteadily. 

Despite his better judgement, Rory found himself ready to throw caution to the wind.  With his senses hyper-alert for people coming past, he finally allowed himself to give in to Amy’s wishes. 

Normally, Rory liked to take his time, to enjoy the experience and soak in being with Amy.  This time, however, the insecurity of the location, the ever-present fear of being caught and the thrill of the unexpected meant he was primed for speed.  Within a very few short minutes it was over, as Rory held Amy close as she finished too. 

Breathing heavily, he pressed his forehead to hers.  ‘That was …’

‘Yeah,’ Amy agreed.  ‘It was.  You’re definitely _my_ raggedy man.’  She brushed a kiss against Rory’s mouth as his heart squeezed in pain.  So.  That was what this was all about.  Dressed as ‘The Doctor’ of her childhood fantasies for this party, he was suddenly irresistible.  Rory sighed internally.  It put that ‘hot’ comment from earlier into perspective as well. 

In the distance he heard a door bang and the music suddenly swelling louder.  A raucous voice yelled something indecipherable, heading closer, and Rory froze, forgetting his bleak thoughts in the panic of the moment.  Amy, however, quickly stepped back, dropping her skirt while she did so, and expertly smoothed his clothes back into place.  With practised fingers she did up his belt.  The ragged shirt of his costume hung out over his waistband and covered any evidence of their haste.

‘Kiss me, Raggedy Rory,’ she demanded as she pressed herself up against his still-sensitive body.  He shuddered at her touch, the sensation almost painful in its pleasure.

‘But … the people …’ 

‘… will think we came out here for a snog not a shag.’  When Rory still gaped at her, she grabbed his head and molded her body to his while giving him a lingering kiss.  His arms flew back around her and he joined in enthusiastically, one hand caressing her back and the other tangling in her hair. 

‘Oi, you two! Get a room!’ Mike said as he wandered close to them, and laughed as if he’d made a huge joke.  ‘People will think you’re up to something raunchy if you keep snogging in the shadows.’ 

Rory blushed, pulling away from Amy, sure that Mike could smell the rushed sex on them, but Amy just laughed.  ‘You wish!’ she said, smirking at him.  ‘You just want a good party story.  Sorry to disappoint.’ 

She twined her fingers in Rory’s and dragged him in the direction of the kitchen.  

‘I’m going to go freshen up,’ she said, pecking him on the cheek and dropping his hand when they arrived.  ‘You get us a couple of beers, would you?  I’m parched.’  She winked at Rory and fluttered her hands in a wave at Mike as she left.  Rory shrugged at Mike and did as he was told, handing a cold beer to Amy when she reappeared, and following her back into the lounge where the party was still in full swing.  Amy pulled him into a dance to the romantic song currently playing, and Rory held her tight, burying his face in her apple-scented hair while losing himself in the moment.  He figured if he was only of use as a Doctor substitute, at least he was _something_ to Amy … and something was definitely better than nothing.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Rory was furious.  That evil old cow of a woman had just plain ignored his logic and hard work, and _dismissed_ him.  He knew he wasn't good at standing up for himself, especially when faced with the very intimidating doctor on his ward, so he'd gathered evidence to back him up.  He'd intended it to help him overcome the stutter he developed in her presence.  Frustratingly, she had instead assumed he was somehow mentally deficient _because_ he had collected evidence she assumed couldn't possibly show what he knew it did.  She didn’t even _look_ at it.  Not only that, but she heard the patients calling out, ‘doctor’ and she still refused to look at his pictures.  Obviously Rory knew there was no possible way for the people on the ward to be out and about in the village, but he kept seeing them.  Why was no-one else even vaguely interested in his discovery?  Even Amy, who was still obsessed with the Raggedy Doctor (though she had thankfully stopped insisting Rory play the role), didn't care. 

'Maybe they have relatives who look like them, Rory.  They're, like, basket cases aren't they? It can't be them,' she'd said, then pounced on him, dragging him off to the forest nearby to have sex.  The terror that they'd be discovered coupled with the intense desire he felt whenever she was nearby pushed the thoughts of the coma patients out of his mind.  

Not today, though.  Today his fury was white hot.  He'd been put on leave over this thing, and even though evidence hadn't got him anywhere so far, he determined to get some more when he saw the man with his dog on the edge of the common.  Surely this time he could convince Doctor Ramsden he was right.  He knew he needed to stand up for himself more, and every time he spoke to the doctor he kicked himself afterwards for not being more assertive, but she was so intimidating that he could never carry through on his intention to hold his own ‘next time.’   Consumed by his anger, and his self-appointed task to gather more evidence, Rory was so focused on what he was doing that he was completely startled when the man in rags grabbed his phone. 

He stared in shock as the man examined his pictures of the coma patients, but under the shock was a hint of gratitude that _someone_ seemed interested in his findings.  The man handed back Rory’s phone, while looking Rory over in a disconcertingly thorough manner, invading his personal space with a puppyish ease as if this was perfectly natural behaviour.

‘The sun’s going out and you’re photographing a man and a dog.  Why?’

Opening his mouth to answer, Rory instead found himself bugged by the idea that the man was familiar somehow, but that was absurd because Rory knew everyone in the village and he was _sure_ he’d remember someone as odd as this guy.  But the feeling still persisted.  Before he could tease out the issue, Amy came running up.

‘Amy,’ Rory said, the delight he felt in seeing her obvious in his voice – he was still so stunned that she was inexplicably interested in him that he still felt giddy whenever she touched him. 

‘Hi,’ she said, clearly distracted, then introduced him to the weird man.  But not, Rory was quick to notice, telling _him_ who the man was.  ‘Oh.  Uh.  This is Rory.  He’s a friend.’ 

‘Boyfriend.’  Rory couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice.  They hadn’t been together long, so it still gave him a thrill to tell other people that she had chosen him.  Amy, however, was still insecure about claiming him so she always fell back on the same comment: ‘kind of boyfriend,’ which always stung Rory a little, but he tried not to show it.  That was just Amy for you – she was never one to believe anyone would stick around, so she always held people at arm’s length.  The worst legacy of her faith in her childhood friend being shattered was this emotional distance she had built up over the years.  Then it suddenly struck Rory why the man looked so familiar – he’d seen him in art form for years. 

‘Oh. My. God.  It’s him.’ 

All that time believing the Raggedy Doctor was just a figment of Amy’s imagination – gone.  He was here now, totally real and solid looking and somehow even bigger – taking up more emotional space than he should – than Rory’s imagination had painted him.  Stunned, Rory stared at the man and tried to work it out, stuttering a little as he questioned Amy.  While he was still trying to process, the Doctor grabbed him by his sweatshirt and pulled him close, his frustration obvious in his tone. 

‘Man and dog. Why. Tell me. Now.’ 

‘Sorry,’ Rory apologised quickly. ‘Because he can’t be there, because … he’s in a hospital. In a coma.’  The Doctor chorused the last with him and Rory nodded, feeling awkward.  How on earth did this guy know what he was going to say?  He felt off-kilter and out of sorts.  First his superior in the hospital had dismissed Rory’s carefully collected data and now this impossible man had turned up and turned out to be real.  His realness impossible and yet indisputably present.  Rory didn’t bother wondering if this was someone else Amy had coerced to play the role; this man had a presence that exuded age and experience despite his youthful appearance.  He was, very obviously, the person Amy had met all those years ago. 

‘Knew it. Multiform, you see.  Disguise itself as anything, but it needs a live feed - a psychic link with a living but dormant mind.’ 

While the Doctor’s push on his head made Rory feel even more unsettled than his familiar but weirdly careful smoothing down of Rory’s clothing, the man’s ‘knew it’ had made him feel vindicated.  Here was someone finally, no matter how odd, who was taking Rory seriously.  He _had_ noticed something weird in the village, it _was_ real and he _was_ right.  He wasn’t going insane, though right now insanity did hold some appeal – it might be less difficult to deal with than a man with a time machine turning up out of the blue and being all obnoxiously _real_ at him.  Rory shifted uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

The dog he’d been photographing barked, and the Doctor’s intimidating and unsettling gaze moved from Rory to the man it was with.  Rory risked a glance sideways at Amy as the Doctor named the creature.  Prisoner Zero.  So that was real too – she’d been right all along.  They did have to save the world from Prisoner Zero so her desire to recreate the moment with the Doctor hadn’t been ridiculous after all.  Shame flooded through him as he remembered how dismissive he’d been in his own head when they played the game. 

Rory barely noticed as the village exploded into chaos around them.  He was too caught up in the shame of the way he’d dismissed Amy’s stories when they were younger, and the horrid reality of the Raggedy Doctor and all the upheaval he was dragging along with him.  Amy was thriving in this situation, Rory could tell, and his own hesitation ate at him.  Gone was the impulse to photograph and document the oddness around him, replaced with a burning desire for everything to just calm down and be normal again.  By contrast, Amy looked confident and in control.  She looked, in short, the way she had before the psychiatrists and the village people had worn her down and hollowed her out.  Heart clenched inside him at the contrast, Rory saw she was now headed for the drain where she had just noticed the man and dog disappear.  Following her, Rory felt all the strength of his inadequacy – the Doctor seemed to know what he was doing even as things crumbled around him, and Amy … Amy had blossomed, all while Rory had diminished. 

Those feelings returned in full force mere minutes later when the Doctor compared him to Jeff; Jeff who had always been the _other_ boy in Amy’s life, the one everyone expected her to end up with.  ‘The good looking one,’ as Rory had been reminded on so many occasions, the one who matched her for looks and poise and charm.  It had been bad enough competing with the Raggedy Doctor all his life, but at least _he_ hadn’t been real (Rory’s mouth twisted as he recognised the bitter irony of that thought), whereas Jeff was right there in front of him and regularly held up by well-meaning friends, who didn’t understand why it was so painful, as another sort of competition for Amy’s attention. 

Once Amelia had become Amy, put her games behind her and grown tall and beautiful everyone had suddenly fallen all over themselves to be around her, and it had seemed inevitable to most that she would end up with Jeff and have beautiful babies with him.  She still spent the bulk of her time with Rory, and she _had_ chosen to be with him rather than Jeff.  But she’d never admitted any feelings for him that went deeper than ‘like,’ and Rory still felt like he was walking on a precipice waiting for the penny to drop, as Mels had so succinctly suggested.  After all, Amy _had_ thought he was gay, and whispering in Rory’s most insecure thoughts was the worry that the reason she thought he was gay was because somewhere deep inside her she wasn’t really attached to him in the way he was to her.  And there was Jeff … always there too and always so aggressively handsome, as the Doctor had now so cheerfully reminded Rory. 

Rory didn’t have time to reflect further, though, as suddenly all his energy was thrown into trying to keep up with Amy as she followed the Doctor’s every instruction.  His day just kept getting stranger and as Rory ran around the hospital and confronted strange alien creatures, he found himself longing for a breather, a break … time to figure out this weird and upsetting situation.  

Twenty minutes’ later, however, it was all over, and Rory was left stunned and holding a pile of discarded clothes as the giant eye turned tail and ran away.  Metaphorically, obviously.  Snowflake … things … weren’t capable of running (or having tails), but it was clear in the demeanour of the thing (and how, Rory mused irrelevantly, did something so machine-like seem to have a personality … feelings … expressions?) that it was having about as not-fun and very-weird a day as Rory was.  He very much wanted to run away himself, but Amy was suddenly distressed as she chased the Doctor, suddenly vulnerable again after her moments of blinding vibrancy, and Rory instinctively knew she would need him.  So he ran, but not away.  He ran towards her.


	13. Chapter 13

The blue box faded out of sight with a whirring sound.  In front of Rory, Amy's shoulders dropped forward.  She turned to him and the look on her face tore at Rory's heart.  It was the look of someone who has been abandoned one too many times being faced with yet another abandonment.  Rory started towards her, reaching out instinctively to try to ease her pain away.  She allowed him to fold her into his arms, and he promised himself, right then and there, that he would never leave Amy alone.  He'd only ever half-believed her stories of the Raggedy Doctor.  Not even half-believed, he corrected himself with a guilty start.  And yet ... and yet as the events of this day had proved over and over he was real, the Doctor, and every bit as weird and interesting as Amy had said.  Unlike Amy, Rory found the manic behaviour and crazy leaps of logic disconcerting and even frightening, but he could see Amy thriving with the other man in a way that made his mouth taste sour when he realised he would never be able to offer her that level of excitement.

But what he _could_ offer was stability.  As the blue box disappeared, it was blindingly obvious to Rory that, as much as Amy craved excitement and adventure, she needed an anchor as well.  Her life was so untethered, what with her parents being gone and Aunt Sharon being so absent all the time, and now once again the raggedy man (clothing-thieving, non-raggedy man now, Rory thought with an internal sniff) had just taken off with a vague promise to be back again.  

'How long do you think he'll be this time, Rory?' Amy asked in a plaintive voice.  'Not years like last time I hope.' 

'I don't know,' Rory said truthfully.  'I don't think so.'  He added the last with as much conviction as he could, but privately Rory thought the Doctor probably had better things to do than return to a tiny village.  He wasn't about to say that to Amy, though, not while she was so obviously unhappy. 

The next few months were hard.  Every time there was an unexpected noise, particularly a whirring sound, Amy's ears would prick up and she'd get a blinding smile on her face.  Always afterwards, the smile would fade and Amy became even more withdrawn than she already had been.   Rory tried everything he could to bring that smile out himself but he only managed it once. 

'Are you ready, Amy?' he called up the stairs of her house one evening. 

'Not yet, you bloody idiot.  Don't you know never to hurry a woman?' 

Rory sighed.  Yes, he did know that but he also knew that reservations at nearby Gloucester's best restaurant weren't easy to come by and that the one they had could be given at any moment to some other, more punctual, couple.  He gritted his teeth, however, and took up pacing again.  He knew that any more comments on the time it was taking her to get ready would prompt Amy to slow down even more.  

Finally she drifted downstairs and Rory’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.  He sometimes forgot, due to seeing her so often, just how breathtakingly beautiful Amy was.  But occasionally she went to an effort, dressed up a little – stopped wearing her trainers and bulky sweaters, and it would hit Rory anew. 

‘God, Amy, you look incredible,’ he whispered in reverent tones as he gazed up at her. 

She gave an unbelieving snort.  ‘You don’t need to be so weird about it, idiot.  I’m still just me,’ she grinned at him.  It was close to the smile she gave when she thought she heard the Doctor, but there was that small tinge of sadness weaving through it that always hurt Rory’s heart.  He pulled himself together. 

‘Sorry,’ he said.  ‘Are you ready to go?’ 

She nodded and he held his hand out to her.  She took it casually, accepting it as she accepted him as her boyfriend now.  In one way it was nice to be so openly acknowledged, but Rory knew this was partially another effect of the Doctor’s absence – that she had resigned herself to the everyday mundanity of Leadworth and accepted all that came with it, including their relationship.  While he loved being with Amy, a small part of Rory was angry that the man was so cavalier with Amy that he could waltz in and out of her life and not really care about the effect he was having on her.  He’d noticed it the mad day the Doctor had dealt to Prisoner Zero: how much _more_ Amy was when he was there, and Rory resented the fact that such a vibrant part of her was destroyed by the raggedy man when he’d left again. 

During dinner, which Rory thanked his stars they got to just in time, Amy chatted happily about her life and her job, but Rory was uncharacteristically silent around her.  She finally noticed around the time dessert was being served. 

‘What is up with you tonight?  You’re not still moping because I did a Leadworth job last night, are you?’ 

‘No, ‘course not,’ Rory said, his palms suddenly slick with sweat as he thought about what was coming.  ‘I’m just ….’ He sighed.  ‘If you must know, I’m … I’m nervous.’  He could barely get the words out, and his hands had begun to tremble. 

Amy frowned at him, lines creasing her forehead as she tried to process this idea.  ‘You’re always nervous, but it doesn’t normally make you shut up _this_ much.  You sure you’re not moping?’ 

Rory could feel the hot flush of red rising in his cheeks.  ‘Amy,’ he said, then stopped again.  ‘I don’t even know how to say this …’ his voice cracked and Amy gasped. 

‘Oh my god – you’re breaking up with me?’  Amy’s eyes were wide and fearful, her hands fluttered wildly and she looked like she would run at any moment.  ‘You brought me here to soften the blow … Rory …’ the last was a pained whisper which tore at Rory.  This insecurity – all the Doctor’s fault, he thought grimly. 

‘No!  No.  Nothing like that.’  Rory reached across the table and grabbed her hands, stilling them and forcing her to look at him.  ‘No.  The opposite, in fact.  I …’ Rory stopped again and sat back, releasing her hands which flew to her mouth.  He shoved his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a tiny red velvet box and held it out to her with shaking hands.  ‘I … um.’  Rory took a deep breath then looked into her eyes, taking comfort from the emotion he saw there.  ‘Amy Pond, will you marry me?’ 

Her eyes dropped and she stared at the box for a long moment as if weighing it up.  Rory could feel the blush getting even deeper as he willed her to say something, anything, to break the silence.  She finally reached over and touched the box reverently. 

‘Are you sure?’ she asked, a quiver in her voice as she lifted her eyes to his. 

‘Of course I’m bloody sure.  I’ve been sure since … well, for a really long time.  _Please_ , Amy, answer me.’  His plea seemed to snap Amy out of whatever trance she had been held in.  

‘Yes.’  It was an almost inaudible whisper, but Rory slumped in relief.  He hadn’t been sure she would agree.  He’d been ninety percent certain, but there was that part of her still waiting for the Doctor and adventure outside of Leadworth.  That part that _didn’t_ want a normal life in a small village.  ‘Yes, I will.’  Her voice was stronger now and she took the box from him and opened it.  

Rory had spent ages trying to work out which ring would best suit Amy.  He had been tempted by a row of sapphires interspersed with diamonds, which reminded him of the top of the Doctor’s police box, but in the end he’d chosen a simple and elegant diamond.  It had stood out from the pack to him the way Amy always did.  No matter what else he’d looked at, that one had called to him.  He knew he’d chosen right when Amy looked at him and smiled, and this time it _was_ that blinding smile that she gave when she thought the Doctor had returned.  

‘It’s perfect, Rory,’ she said and leaned over to kiss him.  He smiled at her and kissed her back, determined to be more than a boring village nurse to keep her happy.  He would start, he thought, with doing more reading on scientific theories around time travel.  He may not be able to take her away to the stars, and he certainly couldn’t compete with the Doctor for excitement, but he could learn enough to be able to discuss that part of her life with her and let her know that he, at least, believed in her dreams. 


	14. Chapter 14

Rory wasn’t having the greatest time at his bachelor party.  Mike had set it all up and dragged his mates down to the local pub, which was fine for someone like him who enjoyed random blokes joining any group he was with – ‘the more, the merrier’ was Mike’s mantra.  But a huge party with him as guest of honour wasn’t Rory’s idea of fun.  So he’d turned his back on the group, shuffled as far out of the limelight as he could get, and called Amy to remind himself why he was doing this ridiculous thing in the first place.  He found himself getting ridiculously gushy as he left a message for her.

Rory knew he was just putting off the inevitable moment when he would be thrust into the centre of the circle and forced to have everyone’s eyes on him again.  There was, he knew, going to be a stripper – another of Mike’s grand ideas which Rory really didn’t want, but he’d never been able to say no and so here he was, wishing he was with Amy and instead being surrounded by a bunch of guys, many of whom he didn’t even know.  When the men’s shouts indicated that the stripper’s cake was arriving Rory put the phone down reluctantly as he was pushed to the front of the group.  Feeling awkward, Rory tried to act like he was enjoying this, but in reality he wished himself many miles away – preferably with his fiancé.

Then, in one moment, embarrassment turned to devastation as the last person Rory ever wanted to see again burst out of the cake.  All he could hear was a buzzing noise as he shook his head, shock shutting down his senses as he tried to come to grips with this reappearance of Amy’s Raggedy Doctor.  Then one line stood out in stark clarity and Rory finally understood what people meant when they said the ground dropped away from beneath them.

‘Now then.  Rory. We need to talk about your fiancé.  She tried to kiss me.  Tell you what, though, you’re a lucky man.  She’s a great kisser.’  Obviously noticing the stunned expressions on the faces of all the men around him, the Doctor added, ‘funny how you can say something in your head and it sounds fine …’ 

Rory’s heart collapsed inside him.  The one thing he’d always feared, the one thing he’d finally thought he was safe from, had now been articulated – and by the man who had inspired those fears two years ago.  His face fell and he felt tears pricking behind his eyes.  Rory clamped his lips together to avoid any show of weakness in front of his mates and all the other blokes at the pub. Rory blinked back the tears and forced his rebellious limbs not to tremble through sheer force of will, determined not to break down in such a public arena.  That this announcement was made in so open a way was bad enough – to react would be unconscionable. 

The Doctor was looking at him with a sympathetic and perceptive eye.  Which meant that in short order he’d clambered awkwardly out of the cake, fallen into Mike’s arms, apologised and fetched up nose to nose with Rory.   He did that intense stare, the one from last time, where he seemed to look inside your soul and read your innermost thoughts.  Rory felt exposed and vulnerable, especially under the interested gazes of the men around him. 

The Doctor obviously noticed how uncomfortable the silence was getting, because he suddenly spun around and flapped his hands at everyone. 

‘Sorry, lads.  Party’s over.  We really do need to talk about Rory’s fiancé and it would probably be better somewhere … else.  Yes, else.’  He spun again, noticed the barman, pulled out some money which he fluttered down onto the bar before adding, ‘there, that should buy them some drinks.’  He clapped Rory on the back.  ‘Come on, you. Let’s go see Amy.’ 

Only because he was still in shock and still close to breaking down did Rory allow the man to lead him away from his still-stunned friends and into the night air.  He barely noticed as someone pushed his vest into his hands as he walked out the door in stunned and disbelieving silence. 

Once they got outside, around the corner and away from all the vaguely embarrassed and sympathetic gazes of the men in the pub, Rory did collapse, allowing the vest to fall from numb fingers as he processed what had just happened.  He flopped backwards and was only prevented from falling by the solid wall behind him.  Feeling an uncomfortable queasiness in his stomach, Rory took several deep breaths and bent forward.  He rubbed his hands over his face as if that would make the Doctor disappear and the nightmare end.  Unfortunately it didn’t work.  He could hear the other man babbling away as he strode into the distance, unaware that Rory wasn’t dutifully following along wherever he was taking him.  A small surge of hope welled up in Rory’s chest – hope that the Doctor would keep walking and never come back.  He risked peeking in the direction of his voice and groaned.  The babbling had stopped and the Doctor was on his way back. 

‘Now then, Rory.  We need to go see Amy,’ he said as he arrived back by Rory’s side.  He clapped his hand on Rory’s shoulder and tried to pull him forward off the wall. 

‘No.’ Rory pulled his shoulder out of the Doctor’s grasp and took another deep breath. 

‘No? What do you mean, no?’ 

‘I mean no.  I won’t go with you.  I don’t want to see Amy.  I don’t want … I don’t want …’ memory of the words crashed in on him again.  _She tried to kiss me … she’s a great kisser._  Yes, she was a great kisser.  Kissing Amy was one of Rory’s favourite things to do, but … she’d kissed this man.  And not, apparently, in the way she kissed her jobs.  Those she was always upfront about.  Rory always knew about them ahead of time.  But this time she’d hidden it, kept it behind his back – and it was with the man Rory had always been measured against.  This time felt different.  The tears that had threatened in the pub were even closer to the surface now and Rory had to pull all his reserves of strength out to keep them from falling.  He looked away from the Doctor, trying not to let him see how difficult this was, how shattered inside this had made him feel. 

To his surprise, the Doctor was sympathetic.  He leaned against the wall next to Rory and looked fixedly at the distant outline of a tree until Rory had himself under some semblance of control again.  Once Rory had stopped gasping and had thrown his head back against the wall, eyes unfocussed, staring into the distance, the Doctor began to speak.  He didn’t look at Rory, whose head snapped round as he uttered the first words. 

‘The thing is, Rory, she needs you.  Somehow, this is all about you.’  He looked momentarily embarrassed as he added, ‘I fail so often, Rory.  This time I need to leave her better off, not worse.  She needs you – and so do I.’  There was a plea in his voice, one Rory found it very difficult to ignore. 

As a counterpoint to his words, the noise in the pub suddenly increased as someone opened the door.  

‘Nah, I can’t see him,’ the someone said in slurred tones.  ‘Poor bastard – probably gone home to cry into his pillow.’  Raucous laughter followed him back into the pub as the door slammed shut behind him.  Rory gritted his teeth in agony as he realised what his friends were thinking, how … how wimpy and unwanted they believed he now was. 

‘They won’t remember, you know,’ the Doctor said cheerfully.  ‘They’re all too drunk already and they’ll just get worse as they drink through my money.  Now.  Will you come?’ 

Still feeling queasy, Rory nonetheless found himself nodding.  For all the pain of the betrayal, and the raging hurt that threatened to drown Rory with its powerful waves, the Doctor had hit on the one thing that would have made him respond.  Amy needed him, and if Amy needed him then he had to go.  Reluctant, and still resentful of the revelation made this evening, Rory nevertheless found himself picking his vest up again and following the man toward the blue box.  How bad could the meeting with Amy be, after all?  What could be worse than learning she had kissed another man?


	15. Chapter 15

How he allowed Amy to get him into these situations Rory didn’t know, but he did know he found them extremely uncomfortable.  His heart was beating with a sickening thud in his chest and his palms were slick and sweaty.  He definitely didn’t feel like any sort of hero – and surely heroes were the ones who were supposed to deal with these sorts of situations?  Frustratingly, Amy was ignoring his carefully worked out, though terrifying, strategy to get her away safely.  While he faced down the weird space fish vampire thing she was _supposed_ to be running away, but was she?  Oh no.  Not Amy – Amy was hanging around and making herself a target.  In desperation, Rory started taunting the beast. 

‘The only thing I’ve seen uglier than you is … your mum.’ 

The creature turned to him.  Its eyes were cold and its fishy origins were clear in the blankness of the inhuman stare.  Rory felt a moment of absolute blind terror when he was sure his heart actually stopped.  He backed away as quickly as he could from the menace he could feel pouring out of the thing’s eyes, trying to avoid tripping as he kept the thing’s eyes in sight at all times.  Rory had a paranoid fear that if he looked away it would turn from him and focus on Amy.  These things did seem overly obsessed with girls, after all. 

‘Did you just say something about Mummy?’ the creature said, almost casually.  The casual tone was belied by the sharp glare, and the very cold eyes.  Rory gulped – his body had tensed and he could feel its instinctive desire to flee kicking in as it became aware that he was in a very dangerous situation.  He cast around, fighting to find something, anything to help him deal with this.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Amy lurking.  He ground his teeth, frustrated.  Amy was supposed to be getting out of there, and he’d hoped she would take the opportunity to find the Doctor to help them.  He was irrationally upset that she wasn’t leaving. 

For a start, he didn’t want to look terrible in front of her and there was no way he could possibly come out of this situation looking anything but terrible.  He was awkward and bumbly, always had been.  Sports had never been Rory’s strong suit, and here he was faced with pretty much the most extreme sport ever invented – fighting for your life.  He was in no way equipped to deal with this.  Secondly, he was floundering and losing ground to the creature’s superior strength and speed.  He could feel it, and he knew that as soon as the fish thing had dealt with Rory – which would be very soon – it would turn its attention to Amy, and then he had no way at all to save her.  Everything was getting beyond his control and if there was one thing Rory hated it was having no control over a situation.  His life had been so perfectly ordered until the Doctor turned up that he was finding it very difficult to cope with the chaotic, dangerous, ever-changing world he was now faced with.  He knew he looked like a fool, but he also knew there was nothing else to do.  He had to keep fighting this thing to give Amy the best possible chance to get away. 

He grabbed a nearby broom and started waving it at the fish man.  He wasn’t entirely sure what the broom was supposed to accomplish, but there was nothing else.  Besides, anything which distracted the creature’s attention away from Amy was alright in his book.  Unfortunately, the broom was quickly sliced in two by the creature’s sword, and, despite everything he tried in his attempt to get away, Rory fell over backwards.  

As his head cracked onto the cobbled stones, he yelled, fully expecting to die as the creature leaped at him.  _I’m sorry_ , he thought, hoping Amy could somehow sense what he was thinking _.  I’m sorry, it’s going to kill me and then you.  I couldn’t stop it_.  Suddenly, the creature disintegrated and the stench of rotten fish and salt exploded all over him.  Gagging, nearly choking on the foul stuff, Rory sat up.  He dusted himself off, still choking on the putrid dust, but also looking around.  Where was Amy?  His prime concern was to keep her safe.  He needed to find out where she was. 

‘Why’d you make the sign of the cross, you numpty?’  Oh, _there_ she was – judging him again.  All his pent up rage from her betrayal flooded back to Rory and he gritted his teeth.  He’d kept it all inside, trying to see it from her point of view (and he could in many ways understand what she’d done and why), but he still felt hurt.  She had run off, left him behind, barely acknowledged him when she did return and now … now she was ridiculing him?  Well, screw her, and screw her bloody Doctor too.  Rory mounted the stairs to her, intending to tell her exactly what he thought of her ridiculous comments. 

‘Oh, right.  Now I’m being reviewed, am I …’ he had more he was going to say.  He was going to review _her_ – let her know how shitty he had found her behaviour, how much he was hurting.  But he found his words cut off by a kiss.  It seemed to last forever and no time at all.  He barely had time to register it was happening before she’d pulled back and smiled at him, brushing her hair off her face in a way that made him want to grab her right then and there and who cared what other fish creatures might be hanging around to see them.  He had forgotten, in all the fear and rage and pain, how much he loved being with Amy.  Kissing her felt, as it always had done, like he was home.  He sighed.  He knew it was sappy but it was the truth.  He was never truly alive when they were apart. 

For that reason, Rory felt another sickening swoop in his heart when everything was finally over and they were walking back to the TARDIS.  Oh yes, Amy had laughed in delight and hugged him when The Doctor had achieved his goal of saving Venice.  But it seemed the kiss after the fish creature died, and then the hugs, had been just ‘in the moment’ things.  As they walked and the Doctor talked of getting them married and she stayed silent and withdrawn, Rory knew he could never compete.  His adventure with the fish thing had proven one thing to him – he was incompetent, and Amy thought so too.  Why else would she pick apart how he’d acted?  His shoulders slumped in resignation. 

‘It’s fine, drop me back where you found me.  I’ll say …’

‘Stay,’ she said.  Her voice was sincere, warm; and when his head snapped up to her she was staring at him, her gaze open and caring.  She was acting as though they were the only two people in the world.  ‘I want you to stay.’  Rory could feel a grin developing on his face.  He glanced over at The Doctor, aware that he was the one who had the real say in whether Rory could travel with them. 

‘Fine with me,’ he said as his face creased in a huge smile.  He looked genuinely happy to have Rory go along.  All jealousy he had felt leached away in the face of the other man’s obvious desire to have him along – even if only as Amy’s plus-one. 

‘Yes.  Yes, I would like that.’  He could feel the silly grin blossoming on his face as he said it.  As terrified as he had been, he had to admit it had also been strangely exhilarating.  Once it was over.  Once he’d been sure, quite sure, that Amy was in no further danger. 

‘Nice one,’ Amy said as she planted a kiss on Rory’s lips.  ‘Hey, look at this.  Got my spaceship.  Got my boys.  My work here is done.’  She turned into the TARDIS, as supremely confident as a queen entering her throne room.  

‘We … are _not_ her boys.’  Rory said it not because he believed it, but because he didn’t want the other man to know quite how much Amy was in control.  The Doctor, however, seemed perfectly at ease with the idea.  It was with an intensely casual air that he said, ‘Yeah we are’ as he pushed Rory ahead of him towards the TARDIS. 

Rory found himself nodding along with The Doctor, as they finally got inside.  Amy was puttering around with the kettle.  The Doctor disappeared into some other part of the giant ship and Rory was left alone with Amy.  It was a weird tradition this tea thing, he mused, as he watched her lithe body flit through the kitchen.  But it was one they’d shared in the past.  Just as his father always had, Rory would make tea whenever something big happened.  Happy, sad, disastrous, momentous.  They all called for a slow down and a nice tea.  He chuckled.  It was funny how Amy had picked up on it too.  She’d spent so much time at his house with Rory and his dad that she was now almost as steeped in Rory’s traditions as he was.  The thought made him happy. 

He went to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  For a long moment she settled back into him, her body molding to his the way it had so often over the last few years but which had been missing these long days since his stag party.  He sighed and dropped his head into her hair, drinking in the sweet scent of the sun-warmed strands.  Standing like this he could almost forget the weird things that had happened over the last few days and imagine them back in Leadworth as the kettle began to whistle.  Had it really been only a few days since the Doctor burst out of his stag cake?  It felt like a lifetime.  Amy was so full of life and energy, and the Doctor matched her pulse for pulse, that it sometimes felt to Rory that he’d been with the two of them, here in this bizarre ship, forever.  

He squeezed, accidentally clasping her too tightly and she squeaked.  He immediately pulled back. 

‘Sorry.  I didn’t mean …’ 

Amy spun around in his arms and smiled at him.  ‘It’s okay.  I like this.  I like you being here.  It feels … right.’ 

Rory’s heart beat faster.  As scary as the Doctor was, as upsetting as this new life had been, she was right.  This did feel right.  It felt like the three of them were supposed to be together, at least for a while.  He grinned. 

‘I like it, too.’ 

‘I meant it, you know.  I’m happy you’re staying.  It’s been great running down corridors with the Doctor, but I did miss you.’ 

Rory’s heart soared as she reached up to him for another kiss.  She’d never told him exactly how much she cared for him, but it was in moments like this one that she _showed_ she cared.  She’d missed him.  It was enough.  He let her go and carefully poured tea for both of them, losing himself in the calm enjoyment of the ritual.  So long as he didn’t have to lose his home comforts he could be happy anywhere – so long as Amy was there too. 


	16. Chapter 16

It had been an odd sort of day, Rory mused as Amy confronted the Doctor about whether he really thought of himself the way the Dream Lord had talked about him.  Rory tuned them out, preferring to process his own confusion.  It wasn’t every day you got stuck in two dreams by a psychotic alternate of your current travelling companion, after all.  Admittedly, odd things were beginning to become somewhat routine on the TARDIS, but generally they didn’t happen because their host was playing footsie with his own psyche.  

Amy had, as usual, taken it all in her stride and now she seemed totally at ease – happily in this new reality and having shaken off the dreams as if they were, well, dreams.  By contrast, Rory couldn’t quite get rid of the idea that _this_ could also be a dream.  He couldn’t trust his senses when they had been so unreliable, simply because the dreams had seemed so real.  Each one had felt believable – he could touch, smell, taste everything in those dreams as vividly as he could right now.  The soft breeze of the heating system blowing around his ankles as he watched Amy and the Doctor seemed exactly as real as the biting cold that had seeped into every crevice just minutes ago on the freezing TARDIS.  So how could Rory possibly know that he was truly back in the real world?  

Then something the Doctor said impinged onto Rory’s consciousness and he frowned as he realised it was true – he _did_ have a question for Amy.  The Doctor pushed her towards him and Rory began gabbling, all worries about trusting his senses gone. 

‘… how did you know it was a dream?  How did you know you wouldn’t just die?’ he finished eventually. 

‘I didn’t,’ Amy said and she … she _blushed_?  She couldn’t look him in the eye.  Amy was never the best communicator but Rory’d had long practice in reading her, and this – _this_ was pretty brilliant.  It was there in her body language, in the taut lines of her body, in the embarrassed twitching of her feet.  It was finally dawning on Rory that Amy, despite her bravado and the many unflattering names she called him, actually did love him.  She’d had no idea when she crashed that van if she would even wake up, but she’d done it anyway.  Because of him.  Rory felt a sudden lightening in his chest as he took her hand.  She still hadn’t said she loved him, but she didn’t need to.  The look on her face was enough – the knowledge that she’d _died_ for him, even if it had been in a dream, was more than enough.  Feeling on top of the world, Rory kissed her. 

He’d forgotten that the Doctor was there, he’d forgotten everything except for Amy, but when he was able to think again, hours later in the room he shared with Amy, he knew the Doctor was right.  This would change his life.  Always before, he’d feared that Amy would run away and leave him – and hadn’t she done just that when the Doctor whisked her away to the stars?    Hadn’t she fed those insecurities when she’d kissed the Doctor behind Rory’s back?  When she’d been so obviously at home and at ease on their crazy adventures while Rory floundered around feeling useless and unwanted?  _You are always so insecure_ , she’d told him in one of those dreams.  Her implication had stung – she was suggesting that Rory should just know somehow without her ever telling him (and through her many flitting moods and contradictory behaviours) that Amy loved him.  And she was right, he was insecure, but only because _her_ insecurities had prevented her from ever letting him know how much she meant to him.  Because she’d never been able to say the words Rory most wanted to hear, and somewhere deep inside Rory had always feared that she never said those words because she didn’t feel them.  But now … now she had explicitly chosen Rory.  She still hadn’t said it, but she had _died_ to see him again.  He kept coming back to that because it was so huge, so overwhelming.  He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading over his face.  

‘Rory,’ Amy cut into his thoughts as she entered the room.  He turned towards her, blushing but with the grin still in place.  He hoped she couldn’t read his thoughts.  Amy blushed herself, then slapped his arm playfully.  ‘Rory, stop that.  It’s not that big a deal.’  _Damn_ , Rory thought.  _She_ can _read them_ – the same years of practise he’d utilised had helped her, too.  He could feel the heat in his face intensify as she smirked at him.  But behind that smirk was still the vulnerable young girl he’d befriended with a football so many years ago.  Seeing that vulnerability, Rory pushed his own worries aside – any lingering concerns he might have had about whether this TARDIS life was a lie were subsumed by Amy’s need for reassurance.  

Despite everything that had happened today, she was still wary of him and how he might react to her silent declaration of love, so he reached for her.  The movement felt natural and she slipped into his arms in a way she hadn’t since they’d begun this weird new life.  Her arms folded around him and he breathed her in.  Remembering his earlier concerns, Rory smiled into her hair.  This certainly felt real enough and this Amy called back so thoroughly to the one he’d grown up with that Rory was almost certain this must be reality.  

‘I love you.’  The words were natural, too.  They felt right on his tongue for the first time in … well, for the first time since they’d joined the Doctor.   For the first time since his stag party the memory of her betrayal didn’t ache in his heart. 

‘I love you, too.’  It was barely a whisper, but it wrapped itself around him – somehow almost solid under the weight of all that it meant.  Finally, Amy had said the words he’d been longing to hear for years.  Rory’s arms clutched convulsively around her and he breathed out carefully, hardly daring to look at her in case he woke from this dream.  He could feel her laugh against his chest and he smiled too, releasing his grip a little.  

‘Bit tight?’ he asked as casually as he could. 

‘Bit tight, yeah,’ she said, chuckling again as she pulled away to look at him.  There was a subtle shift in her eyes and suddenly she was kissing him the way she had in the TARDIS control room.  There was a desperation in this embrace, and Rory knew without asking that it came from the knowledge that she had almost lost him the way she had lost so much before.   Rory poured everything he had into the kiss, trying to let Amy know without words that he would do his very best never to leave her alone again.  She seemed to understand; her body relaxed into his and he felt the desperation slip away into something else.  Amy pulled back eventually and smiled at him, the flirty smile that used to drive him wild when they first got together.  

‘I’m suddenly feeling very tired, Rory.  What say we go to bed?’

Dazed, he nodded and allowed her to lead him to their bed and lost himself in just being with her.  This may have been a weird day, he may still doubt the reality he was now living, but as he let himself slip into the moment he realised that if this _was_ a dream he didn’t want to wake up.  This life, this weird, disturbing, terrifying life was also brilliant and amazing.


	17. Chapter 17

A roaring sounded in Rory’s ears as he took in what The Doctor was saying.  Amy was gone.  How could she be gone?  He had only just discovered the joys of being with an Amy who loved him and wasn’t afraid to show it.  An Amy who would kiss him at odd points just because she could.  An Amy who would whisper, ‘I love you’ to him, perhaps a little self-consciously still, but she did it.  How could he have lost Amy?   How could she have fallen through some crack in the earth?  How?  It made no sense.  Rory stopped walking and demanded for the Doctor to fix it, to make it right.  But deep inside Rory cynically believed he would never make it right.  The Doctor relied too much on luck – luck that he defeated the Dream Lord, luck that he got them out of the fish-peoples’ clutches.  Too much luck.  And now the luck had run sour and Amy was missing.  Amy, his Amy, had been swallowed by the earth.  As his thoughts started to cycle round again, Rory could feel the beginnings of panic welling up.  Then the Doctor spoke. 

‘I need you alongside me.’  It was the one thing this man could have said to pull Rory out of the spiral the news had sent him into.  There was only one way to bring Amy back – Rory had to trust the Doctor.  The man who had dragged them here with his incompetent flying was his one chance to save her.  He sighed.  He also knew he did need to be alongside the Doctor.  There was no way the Doctor knew Amy as well as Rory did; he would have more background on her, more understanding of who she was and what she might do.  

What she might do, Rory realised with an internal groan, was get herself into as much trouble as she possibly could.  Reckless, mad Amy would never stay still waiting for her men to come find her.  She would get herself out even if it meant getting into more trouble than staying put.  Usually he loved that about her – she was the fire to his earth, and it electrified him – but today it terrified him.  What was below the ground?  What horrors could she be getting herself tangled up in?  Trying to push down the panic that threatened to rise again, Rory followed the Doctor. 

It got worse when the Doctor blithely put Rory in charge of the small band of humans left above ground.  He’d never enjoyed being ‘the boss,’ even during those times when he knew he would do a better job than the actual boss (a memory of the stubborn Dr Ramsden flitted through his mind).  Being boss came with responsibilities that sat ill on his shoulders – like ordering people around.  Rory had always felt more comfortable in the support position, the place where you could take someone’s ideas and make them reality but didn’t have to be the one to _have_ , or worse have to enforce, the ideas.  He didn’t like being the one at whom the buck stopped; having someone up the line to send problems to was infinitely better than being the one to deal with those problems. 

Panic rose even more in his heart as the Doctor took Nasreen and headed off with her.  Rory’s remaining troops were argumentative and headstrong.  They were exactly the type of people he’d always most hated being in charge of – ones who were absolutely sure they were right and would attempt to bully him into doing what they wanted.  Well, to be fair, Tony wasn’t quite so bad except when he was arguing with his daughter.  But Ambrose … she was difficult.  Rory had seen her be difficult for the Doctor and she was even worse now – resentful that he was in charge and infuriated that Rory had misled her over his role as policeman. 

He chewed his lip, worried about how this would play out.  ‘No-one dies today’ the Doctor had said, but Ambrose had murder in her heart.  Rory was worried that she would do something stupid.  Did he understand her point of view?  Of course.  His heart bounded with fear every time he allowed himself to think of Amy, buried underground, every time he thought of what might be happening to her.  However, he held himself together, refusing to allow his anxieties to overcome his reason.  But Ambrose was so clearly poised on the edge of reason that she had become a loose cannon.  There was no way to predict what she might do or how she might act.  And that made her very dangerous to Rory’s given job.  

To save Amy he had to keep Alaya safe.  To keep Alaya safe he needed to keep Ambrose under control.  To keep Ambrose under control … well, there was the rub.  How _was_ he going to able to keep her controlled?  His previous attempt to reason with her had failed, he could see it in her eyes.  He resolved to try once more. 

‘Ambrose,’ he said diffidently when Tony had left the room for a moment.  ‘Ambrose, you know the Doctor will save everyone, right?’ 

She was shaking, her voice strained and her eyes moist.  ‘How can you know that?  You can’t know what will happen.’ 

‘I know the Doctor.  I’ve seen him before – he talks to people, gets them to change their minds.  Look.  We just need to let him try; all we need to do is keep Alaya alive.  Just for a bit.  That’s not so hard, right?’ 

She shook her head.  ‘They kidnapped my son!  They have my husband!  How can you say we should let this one be?  She might know something, something which could help.’ 

Rory looked down at his hands.  This wasn’t going well – there was a wild desperation in her eyes, she was fiercer and more distraught than she had been last time he’d tried to talk to her, and his usual nurse’s tricks to get patients at ease weren’t getting through to her.  

Taking a deep breath, Rory tried again. 

‘Just for a bit.  Then, if it doesn’t work, we can just … just talk to her then.’ 

‘But don’t you see – we’re wasting time!  My family is down there!  They could be dying while we sit here doing nothing!’  Her voice was becoming anguished and Rory winced.  It seemed like it might be better to let her be.   Talking to her was just making her more anxious. 

‘My fiancée is down there, too.  _I’m_ worried too, but I trust the Doctor; he’ll sort it out.’  Rory’s heart twisted in desperate fear as he said it, but it was true.  He had to trust the Doctor and he had never failed them in the big things before.  Swallowing, he looked at Ambrose again. 

She shook her head, obviously unwilling to accept his analysis. 

He held his hand on her shoulder briefly, trying to send a message of comfort to her before releasing her and leaving the room.  He hoped she would calm down a little if left to her own thoughts. 

Outside, he paced.  Things were falling apart.  He had one job to do, one simple job, and he was failing.  His breath came in ever-smaller gasps as he could feel panic gripping his chest. 

_Get a grip, Rory_ , he admonished himself.  _You need to be calm right now_. 

He stopped pacing, and forced himself to take one deep breath, then pulled himself together.  The Doctor had left him in charge for a reason.  _He_ clearly had faith that Rory could do this, and if the Doctor believed that, then Rory would do his very best to live up to it.  All he could do, Rory thought, was try to keep his small band together.  If he could just keep them from killing either themselves or Alaya he could pull this off.  Be the very best of humanity – they could do that, right? 

He forced himself inside and found Tony, ill and struggling for breath.  Frustrated, Rory said, ‘I’m a nurse.  You should have told me.’  Why were none of his little band doing the sensible thing?  As he bent to tend to Tony he heard an agonised screaming from Alaya’s cell and he turned to run in that direction.  _Please,_ he thought, _please don’t let them have stuffed this up._  

But as he ran, he knew.  This wasn’t good.  This was, in fact, possibly disastrous.  _Amy!_   His mind screamed as he entered the room and saw what Ambrose had done.

 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Roranicus walked slowly through the camp inspecting his men.  For the most part they were good, respectable Roman citizens who worked hard and were well disciplined.  But there were a few who always felt the need to try it on.  It was important to keep on top of things to ensure any bad eggs didn’t cause discipline issues to rot the whole legion, so Roranicus walked the camp every day keeping everyone in check.  They were often restless and anxious – desperate to fight someone and dreaming of conquering the local Celtic peoples. 

Today the inspection was even more difficult than usual.  There were rumours flying around camp that Cleopatra was coming, even that she was in fact in the sergeant’s tent right this minute.  For some reason, Roranicus thought it was unlikely for her to be here in an isolated outpost miles from anywhere with any sort of civilisation.  There was something off about the whole situation, but Roranicus didn’t spare much thought on it.  The important thing for him today was how bloody flighty it had made his men.  They were all jittery and unsettled, with small fights and bouts of rudeness breaking out far more regularly than usual 

‘Cassius, Flavius … knock it off, you two.’  Roranicus sighed in exasperation as yet another fight broke out.  He pushed himself between the two men and wrenched them apart.  They struggled to reach each other to keep up the altercation.  ‘You, Flavius; go back to your tent, you’re confined to quarters for a day.  Cassius – you come with me.’ 

He held firmly onto Cassius, who was trying to pull away after the other man who was not going quietly.  Instead, he hurled insults back as he marched stiff-backed away, though not daring to disobey a direct order from his superior.  Roranicus watched until he was sure Flavius was out of sight before dropping Cassius’s arm and leading him towards his tent.  As they walked, he pondered what he was going to do about this situation, but he also kept a careful eye on his companion in case he tried to get away.  Roranicus sighed.  Surely there was more to life than this?  More than disciplining men?  It niggled at him that he should be tending to peoples’ hurts, not gearing them up to kill each other.  But that was ridiculous; he was Roman and fighting the infidel was the Roman way.  How else were they to bring civilisation and enlightenment to the world? 

‘Cassius, what is going on?’  Roranicus sat behind his camp desk, fingers crossed as he scrutinised the other man. 

Cassius stared straight ahead, pose as formally military as he could make it.  He was clearly uncomfortable in his superior’s presence. 

‘I don’t know what you mean, sir.’ 

‘You’ve been picking fights with other guys all week.  Why?  You’re usually so disciplined.’ 

‘I haven’t been picking fights.  Sir.  I have been discussing issues with people, sir.’  

The man’s eyes snaked a look at Roranicus, who made sure he looked as stern and forbidding as he could.  He wished he could allow himself to be nicer, but these men didn’t respect ‘nice’ – they respected authority and firmness.

Roranicus sighed again.  ‘What issues have you been discussing?’ 

‘Cleopatra, of course, sir.  It is treasonous to be dealing with the Egyptian whore, sir.’ 

Internally, Roranicus rolled his eyes.  It was petty stuff, but had obviously become deadly serious to his men.

‘Cassius, you’re a good legionary but this has to stop.  You’re assigned to quarters for the next two days and will do extra patrols.  Dismissed.’

Roranicus ground his teeth in frustration as the other man left the tent.  This, then, was the problem.  The camp was divided into those who believed Cleopatra could do no wrong and those who believed she was the enemy and needed to be stopped at all costs.  It was becoming ridiculous how invested each side was in its theories. 

It was funny, though.  Somewhere in the back of his mind Roranicus was sure that this was all history, ancient history – and that the history had been different.  Cleopatra had never come to Britannia; and yet that was ridiculous since here she was.  Try as he might, Roranicus couldn’t dredge up where he’d got that thought from.  It swirled to the surface of his mind then faded almost instantaneously.  He heard a scuffling outside his tent and, resigned, stood to go investigate it.  He was slowed when he heard what the two men were saying. 

‘You can’t bother him with it.  It’s just a daft rumour.’  There was a thump on the side of the tent as the two wrestled. 

‘It’s not a rumour.  There are visitors in camp – a weird man and a woman with red hair.  I saw them with Cleopatra.  They want volunteers for something and _he_ needs to be told …’ 

‘The centurion is busy.  He doesn’t need to be worried with your fancies.’ 

Normally, Roranicus would have gone outside, sent his overprotective sentry on his way and found out what his soldier wanted to tell him.  But today the words had started a cascade in his head.  When he’d first got here he’d had a memory, like a dream, of another life.  A life many years in the future, a life travelling the stars with an alien man … and with a woman he loved, called Amy.  Over time it had faded and he had been sure it was just a weird dream.  Until now. 

His head exploded with memory and he dropped to the ground clutching his head and shaking with the agony of it.  He gritted his teeth together to try to avoid alerting those outside to his distress.  Even through his pain, he knew it would be dangerous for any of them to find him like this.  This weakness would surely be jumped on and it was important he maintained an image for his men, especially now when he knew what a façade it had all been. 

 

Flash 

 

A child kicking a ball to another child and forming a friendship. 

 

Flash 

 

A passionate kiss to the Macarena. 

 

Flash 

 

A blue box materialising before his eyes.

 

Flash 

 

A small boy, blindfolded and ridiculed. 

 

Flash 

 

Fighting a fish vampire 

 

Flash 

 

Staring into Amy’s horrified eyes as he died …

 

The flashes came faster and faster, finally coming in a steady stream before finishing with an explosion of information and leaving him wrung out and gasping.  Rory rolled over, vomited once then sat up wiping his mouth.  He was shocky and disorientated, but he knew who he was now, and Roranicus, centurion of the Roman Army, was not it.  He was Rory Williams, nurse, from Leadworth.  He was engaged to Amy Pond and he was a companion to the Doctor.  He was, in short, in the wrong place and definitely at the wrong time. 

He lay back down on the rough ground, carefully avoiding the ejected contents of his stomach, and scrubbed his hands over his face.  He had to work this out, figure out what he was doing here and what he needed to do to escape.  The Doctor had obviously come to retrieve him so Rory needed to make sure he was ready.  What had that legionary said?  They wanted volunteers for something?  He prised himself off the ground, limbs feeling heavy and unwieldy, and headed to his commander’s tent.  He needed to get himself back to Amy, to see Amy again, and volunteering for whatever mission the madman had got himself into seemed like the best way to ensure that happened.


	19. Chapter 19

Rory’s world collapsed as Amy fell forward into his arms, in a parody of a loving embrace, and then tipped backwards so slowly it seemed almost like she was performing a graceful ballet move.  In some grotesque way she looked beautiful as she fell, her hair slipping off her face and her body arching gracefully.  He screamed in shock as the reality sank in – not the taunting beauty of her form as it fell, but the brutal reality of her dead weight pulling against his arms.  He had killed her, killed his fiancée, the one he loved, and everything else he’d been through until now was less than nothing. 

Just moments ago life had seemed amazing, bright and hopeful.  He had the ring, Amy was beginning to remember him.  Everything was going to be beautiful.  Then his programming had kicked in and he’d become this – this monstrous being.  This plastic piece of evil.  It would have been better by far to carry on thinking he was Roranicus of Londinium than to have all his hopes resurrected so cruelly and then dashed in this most evil of ways.  

Generally Rory tried to live a good life.  He tried to do the right thing by people, he tried to be nice, he tried to be caring.  He did his best to live by the idea of ‘do no harm’ and generally he was pretty proud of how he managed that.  He knew he had his faults, knew he could be insecure and jealous (and hadn’t he shown both those traits less-than-admirably when he’d first come out here to see Amy?) but he always knew that at the heart of him he was someone who did his best not to hurt others.  It was the one thing he held on to in the sea of insecurity that could overwhelm him sometimes – that he was essentially a caring, good person who tried to make the world better for others.  He grimaced as he thought of Jane.  Well, he didn’t hurt them on purpose anyway.  Today, though, his illusions of himself were ripped to shreds.  

He couldn’t even fault Amy – she had just done what she always did.  She’d tried to save _him_.  She’d tried to get him back to himself, to help him fight his programming.  If only it had worked!  But it hadn’t; it had worked only long enough to ensure she was right there in the path of the bullet he couldn’t stop.  

Gasping again at the horror of what he had done, choking down another cry of horrified anguish, Rory pulled Amy’s body into his with hands that shook so much he could barely hold her.  His eyes were almost blind with tears as he tried to hug her floppy form.  She was still warm.  She hadn’t hardened into death the way he’d seen so many others do before her.  He tried to pretend just for a moment that she was asleep – that this terrible agony ripping through him was a lie.  But that was the worst thing about being a nurse.  He _knew_ she wasn’t asleep – none of the tiny cues he used when he checked on patients were there.  None of the signs he unthinkingly used to ascertain condition in his dying patients.  No breathing, no rise and fall of the chest, no twitching limbs, no slight coloration.  Nothing.  He couldn’t pretend any longer.  But he also couldn’t let her go.

He leaned himself back against the log she had been sitting on just a few short minutes earlier (was it _really_ just a few minutes since he’d demanded to know which of his men had given her the damn blanket?  It seemed like hours must have past, a great gulf of time yawning between happiness and despair).  Rory was careful to ensure that she wasn’t jiggled too much as he gathered her to him.  Even though he knew she was dead, he couldn’t bring himself to treat her with anything other than utmost care.  He had loved her, still loved her, and he couldn’t allow her to fall into any of the more grotesque forms that death could take.  So he cradled her body, lying her carefully across his knee.  He couldn’t bear to put her down and admit finally that she wasn’t coming back.  So he talked to her, telling her stories of how things were, begging her to laugh at him one last time.  Close to despair, Rory added, ‘I could do with a ridiculous miracle about now,’ and looked down at her.  Perhaps if he wished hard enough someone would come and save her.  Perhaps … 

A blinding light, a crackle of electricity.  The Doctor standing there in a fez and carrying a mop.  

Rory knew he’d asked for a miracle but this didn’t really seem to fit the bill.  Ridiculous, yes.  A miracle?  Didn’t seem likely. 

‘Rory.  Listen.  She’s not dead.  Well, she is dead but it’s not the end of the world.  Well, it is the end of the world, actually it’s the end of the universe.  Ooh no, hang on.’ 

The Doctor flashed away again in another blaze of lightning.  _Well, that made sense of everything then, didn’t it_?  thought Rory with an internal sneer – right now he needed the Doctor to do something miraculous and all he had was babble?  Typical, that was.  The one thing Rory clung to was the hope that came with the words ‘she’s not dead’ – surely the Doctor wouldn’t have said that, knowing how Rory would be hurting, if there wasn’t _some_ hope? 

Desperately, wanting more confirmation and hoping he would hear him and return, Rory called out, ‘Doctor.  Doctor!’ 

Just when he was giving up hope that he’d get more information the crackle came again.  The Doctor popped up, minus the mop but fez still in place, and grinned at him. 

‘You need to get me out of the Pandorica.’ 

‘But you’re not in the Pandorica.’ 

‘Yes I am.  Well I’m not now, but I was back then.  Well, back now from your point of view which is back then from my point of view.  Time travel.  You can’t keep it straight in your head.  It’s easy to open from the outside, just point and press.  Now go.’ 

Rory was confused.  None of what the Doctor said made any sense and none of it seemed like it would help Amy.  Besides, when the Doctor talked at that speed Rory always had difficulty keeping up with his train of thought.  Add this popping in and out, and the dead woman in his arms, and Rory was so far beyond his depth he couldn’t even see the shore, let alone figure out how to navigate the stream of the conversation.  Frustrated, angry and annoyed, Rory was beginning to fume when the Doctor reappeared for a final time.  Unfortunately, his admonition to put the sonic in Amy’s pocket didn’t help at all.  Rory’s heart sank.  The ridiculous miracle seemed to have come to nothing. 

When the man disappeared for the last time Rory still had no idea what he had to do.  Well, apart from get the Doctor out of the Pandorica.  Holding on to that one concrete thought, the one thing in the great sea of babble that gave Rory something to _do_ , Rory carefully lifted Amy from his knee and laid her gently on the ground.  He wrapped her blanket firmly around her.  Tears still in his eyes, but a shaft of hope in his heart that the miracle might just happen, Rory kissed her one last time before trudging into the underhenge. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

Rory took a deep breath and rested his sword on his knees.  This had seemed to be a really great idea when he’d first conceived of it.  He’d sit with Amy for a few thousand years and, hey presto, things would work out fine.

Now that he was actually staring down the barrel of so much time he felt overwhelmed.  He glanced around the dark space surrounding him, filled with the decaying shapes of things that had never existed.  Rory shivered.  He’d been so close to being one of those, wiped out of existence as if he was worse than useless – he knew what it was like to not be real, to face the consequences of being erased from the world.  He knew how that felt, and despite the stresses of his current position he was unreservedly glad to be alive.  Well, sort of alive.  He squirmed a little, trying to get comfortable as the rough edge of the Pandorica cut into his stockinged legs.  

That first day passed in a blur.  Rory spent it terrified, starting at every sound, imagining the sinister shapes around him moving slightly every time he took his eyes off each one.  He didn’t even have the luxury of sleep – the Doctor had been right; sleep was impossible.  Even though he’d spent many nights ‘sleeping’ as a Roman, now he knew he wasn’t human he couldn’t even escape into the pretence.  There was no comforting oblivion for Rory, not this day and not any of the days to come. 

He resettled his body, trying desperately to forget the time stretching ahead of him.  ‘Oceans of time’ he’d once heard in a movie long ago, liking the sound of the phrase without ever giving thought to what it meant.  Now it threatened to press him down with the weight of all its meaning.  ‘I have crossed oceans of time to find you,’ the movie character had said … and Rory would have to cross oceans of time to protect Amy.  Oceans.  It sounded so pleasant, didn’t it?  A grand romantic gesture – and yet faced with the reality it seemed grimly horrific.  The only thing that kept Rory going was the knowledge that he had got Amy into this mess and it was his duty to see her through it.  The easy jump to the future would have been so simple and yet it had been impossible – how could one assuage this kind of guilt in an instant?  No.  Waiting was his penance.  Anything he could do to make her journey safer he would do.  He had to do.  Because there was nothing more bitter than the knowledge that _he_ was the one who had done this to her.  Time.  He had time.  Oceans of it, in fact, and he would ride on all of them to keep Amy safe. 

A day passed. 

 

Another 

 

Then another. 

Rory stopped stressing about the shapes surrounding him.  They never moved and soon became almost a comfort, familiar and stable.  Reminders of the other world, the other time.  Reminders of what he was doing – protecting Amy as the universe slowly disintegrated around them.  By the fourth day, Rory had settled into a pattern.  He wandered around the dark underhenge, twice, keeping an eye out for anything dangerous – which never came – then settled down in his customary position, sword across knee. 

 

It took years before anyone noticed anything amiss.  Rory had sat down in 102 AD and it wasn’t until 118 AD that the Romans rediscovered him.  

He cursed himself for years after because it was his own fault that their hiding place was located.  He’d begun to get restless, and that was their downfall.  He began to get careless and that’s when the Romans rediscovered Stonehenge.

Sixteen years – he was only sixteen years into the nearly-two-thousand he had to endure and he had already exposed himself, and Amy by extension, to dangers.  It may have been more boring to stay safe and sound under Stonehenge for the hundreds of years he needed to keep Amy safe, but it would certainly have been less difficult.  Instead, Rory had become curious.  It took years, but finally Rory had to see what was going on ‘out there’ in the real world.  Plastic heart pounding unpleasantly in his chest, Rory pushed the cover on the underhenge and peered up.  As he’d hoped, it was night.  The velvety darkness hid his form as he squeezed out of the hole and tiptoed through the massive stones surrounding him.

At first he started at every movement.  A small animal snuffling past almost made his heart leap out of his chest and sent him flying back down to the underhenge.  Soon, however, he ventured out again and patrolled around his site.  He knew that in hundreds of years people would make pilgrimages to the standing stones to see them and gawp in awe at their age and presence.  But now he figured he was safe and that the black drapes of night would conceal his presence.  Unfortunately, he forgot that he would leave footprints, small signatures of his touch upon the earth.

The Roman camp he’d been part of had been illusory and had disappeared like smoke when the Alliance had been blown out of existence by the exploding TARDIS.  It had left Rory and the Pandorica alone in their bubble for years.  However, by 118 AD the Roman exploration did make it to the area and Rory was discovered.  

‘Halt. Who goes there?’   

The voice barking out of the night made Rory jump.  He froze, hoping the person was talking to an associate and that he could retreat to the underhenge.  

‘You, in the structure.  You appear out of nowhere.  What are you?’  The voice was slightly fearful this time. 

‘Er … Roranicus, at your service.’  Rory gulped a little as he stepped forward, his Latin rusty but coming back to him nonetheless.  ‘How can I help you?

‘What is your rank and why are you here alone?’ 

‘Centurion.  I was left to guard a treasure by my legion.  It’s too big to move and we didn’t want it to be pilfered by any barbarians.’ 

‘Rubbish.  Nothing’s too big to move.  Let’s have a look at it, then.’

Rory was reluctant to show the other man down into the underhenge where Amy was now in danger of being discovered and taken.  Swallowing his fear, however, Rory nodded once and led the other man down to the Pandorica.  

‘It’s a marvel!’ the other man breathed.  ‘We must tell the commander about this.  Rome must see this!’ 

And so Rory found himself transported back to Rome with Amy, with an entire legion at his back to help him protect her box.  They had been unsure of letting him accompany the Pandorica, but he convinced them that his duty lay with protecting it, and since his legion had disappeared (in fact, they were puzzled by why they couldn’t find any record of it at all) they decided they may as well take him to Rome and pass him up the chain of command.  He’d become someone else’s problem if they did that. 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Rory had become used to questions.  He had learned to lie with a straight face and a winning smile so people trusted him.  He was quickly absorbed into Roman life, allowed to remain one of the guards of the Pandorica as it travelled the cities and provinces of Rome.  They had fashioned a low cart with wheel axles wide enough for the Pandorica to ride on, and so it travelled, slowly, ponderously, through the countryside of the Roman Empire, a symbol of their victory in Britannia.

Rory was careful to ‘take breaks’ to sleep, but always once they supposed him to be asleep he would slip out again and sit where he could watch the box, not trusting anyone else to keep it as safe as he could.  He couldn’t sleep anyway, so he used his time to watch over Amy and ensure all the other guards were doing their jobs. 

 

Eventually they ended up in Rome and Rory was marched to the emperor.  Dredging up his memories of his Roman childhood, Rory made the correct obeisance.  It wasn’t hard to look intimidated by this man – he had a terrifying presence.  The new emperor, Hadrian, had yet to grow into his later famed conviviality and effusiveness.  He was still trying very hard to look like an all-powerful emperor.  The rumours that floated around that his adoption as heir to Trajan had been rushed through after the old emperor’s death made him act as statesmanlike as he could to prove his claims to the throne.  The effect was _very_ intimidating. 

Rory swallowed as he looked up at the man, but thankfully he wasn’t forced to defend himself.  The emperor merely looked at him for a lengthy time, then waved his hand and sent him out.  The relieved guard with him told Rory he was now permitted to continue guarding the Pandorica. 

‘What?  You got that from that?’ 

‘Yeah.  If you weren’t allowed you’d still be in there – and you wouldn’t be leaving under your own steam any time soon.’

Rory shuddered.  He was grateful, of course, that he was able to stay with the Pandorica but things were beginning to look very complicated.  He wished fervently that he had never crept out of his safe haven in the underhenge.

The other man looked at him with compassion. 

‘Come along, sir.  I’ll show you your quarters.’

‘No, wait.  I need to … to go to the box.  I’ll just bed down beside it.’ 

‘Oh no.  That’s not permitted, sir.  That would look sloppy, sir.’

‘Sloppy?’ 

‘Yes.  The box will be displayed, sir.  It is a treasure for all Romans to marvel at.  You will guard it, but you can’t sleep near it.’ 

Rory sighed in frustration, but he knew he couldn’t push back.  It was too important that he be allowed to stay with the box.  The worst case scenario would be that he could be sent to another territory with a legion, leaving Amy unguarded behind him.  He swallowed his sudden fear at the thought and nodded.

 

Thus started the worst of his years with the Pandorica.  He grew to hate the crowds who pushed their way into the room to see the miraculous box.  He hated their eager eyes on him, their questions, their constant touching of the box.  He forced himself to stay rigid when they did so, but he held his teeth gritted and his body tense.  He never let them see how much he hated it, always greeting them with a smile and an easy lie about what he knew about the box.

‘Mum … Mum, why’s that man always with the box?  Mum?’ the whiny voice grated on Rory’s nerves but the question startled him.  If even small children were noticing that he was almost constantly with the Pandorica he needed to be careful.  It had only been a few years, yet his constant presence was being noted.  Rory swallowed. 

‘He guards it, Marcus.  That’s his job.’  Rory relaxed slightly as she dragged the boy away, but it got him thinking.  He would never age and someday the Romans would notice that the guard on the box looked exactly the same now as he had when the box arrived.  He panicked slightly as he thought about what they might do to him if he raised their superstitious hackles.  He realised for the first time just how precarious his position was.  He had to do something, but what?  What could he do to stop the superstitious Romans from destroying either him or Amy’s home?

Rory mulled on the problem as he walked to his sleeping quarters.  He had to get them to see him as something more, something god-like, to ensure both his own safety and Amy’s.  But how was he to do that?  He passed one temple after another and reflexively genuflected every time he passed one which his implanted childhood memories suggested was important to his family.  With a sudden inspiration, Rory realised he had the perfect solution staring him right in the face. 

 

‘You saw the goddess, you say, centurion?’ 

‘Yes, sir.  I definitely saw her.  She came in a vision.’  Rory was staring stiff backed at the wall behind the head guard.  _Please_ , he begged in his head, _please_.  _This has to work._  

‘Juventas hasn’t been seen in Rome in hundreds of years, son.  You can’t have seen what you think you saw.’  The older man smiled at him with affection, clapped him on the shoulder and turned to leave. 

‘Please, sir.’  Rory’s desperate voice stopped him.  ‘Let me prove it to you.  She granted me youth.  Eternal youth.  I will never grow old.  Never die.’

‘And how will you prove this?’  The older man shook his head at Rory’s words.  ‘No-one lives forever.’

‘I cannot now sleep or eat, sir.  Let me show you.  Have me under guard for a few days – I will remain perfectly alert with no sleep and no sustenance.  Juventas _has_ blessed me and she _does_ want me to guard the box continuously.  Please let me prove it.  I … this is my calling.  I know it.’

Something in his voice must have convinced the older man because he finally nodded.  ‘Okay, lad.  But once this is over this foolishness must stop.  You have five days.’

Rory smiled, relieved.  He knew he would convince them and now he would be able to be with Amy constantly without fear of exposure.  ‘Thank you, sir.  You will not regret this.’ 

With a much lighter heart, Rory returned to his post by the Pandorica.  A very bemused soldier was posted to guard him while he guarded the Pandorica and Rory was finally content in Rome.  It took weeks to finally convince the man, but eventually they could deny the evidence no longer.  He was allowed to stay with the Pandorica and given a degree of respect even his rank hadn’t afforded him before.  Rory had a place and a purpose now.  He rested his head back against the box as the guard around him changed.  ‘You’re safe now, Amy,’ he whispered to her.  ‘And I promise you’ll stay safe from now on.’


	22. Chapter 22

‘You don’t belong here.’  The man said it with certainty, nodding at Rory in a familiar way.  Startled at the use of English, Rory gazed at him without speaking.  He took in the man’s navy trousers and his military jacket then his eyes swept on to the vortex manipulator peeking out from the jacket.  _Neither do you_ , he thought, but still didn’t speak.  Instead, he resettled himself into parade rest and stared at the wall behind the man’s head.  His hand was poised over his sword, though.  Something about this man set his teeth on edge.  Something more than the English that was.  Maybe it was the time – people didn’t usually visit the Pandorica this long after dark unless it was a festival.  Maybe it was just something about the man’s general attitude.  Tensing a little, Rory readied himself to defend if it became necessary, his senses hyper aware of the man’s every move despite not looking in his direction. 

The man chuckled to himself and Rory could feel his eyes on him.  ‘Oh.  A quiet one.  The Doctor doesn’t usually like them quiet.’  The tone was amused, and the name startled Rory out of his silence.  Relaxing, he glanced over at the other man.  

‘You know the Doctor?’ 

‘I was right!’ the man grabbed him into a very familiar hug and Rory immediately tensed, his arms stiff and unresponsive.  The other man pulled back and laughed, patting Rory’s face.  ‘Oh, you are a quaint one!  Captain Jack Harkness at your service.’  He swept into an over exaggerated bow and laughed again. 

‘How did you know …?’ 

‘That you’re one of the Doctor’s waifs?  You don’t fit in.  You’re always here with this box, and you never sleep.’  Rory didn’t see what that had to do with the Doctor and his confusion must have shown on his face because Captain Jack laughed yet again, sat down on the edge of the Pandorica and looked winningly at Rory.  ‘Plus, he told me he’d left a plastic centurion guarding a box and I couldn’t resist taking a peek.’ 

He patted the ledge next to him.  ‘Come and sit down, centurion.  It’s late, we’re the only ones here.  Take some weight off and tell me your story.’ 

Feeling uncertain, Rory sat down.  ‘So the Doctor sent you, then?’ he asked. 

‘Not exactly.  He kind of said _not_ to come.  But how could I resist?  A man in a uniform?  Count me in.’ Jack laughed as Rory inched away from him.  Then his face changed and he leaned his head back against the wall.  The gaze he gave Rory became direct and sympathetic.  ‘But, seriously, I thought you might like a chat with someone who understands.’ 

‘Understands what?’ 

‘Understands not dying.  Outliving everyone around you.’  Jack waved his hands around, indicating the world around them.  ‘How long have you been here?’ 

Rory sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair.  ‘I don’t know.  A few hundred years, I think.  It’s a bit of a blur.’ 

Jack nodded understanding.  ‘Yeah that happens.’  

Rory looked at him for a long moment.  He seemed sincere, so Rory asked, ‘What did you mean you understand?’  

‘I can’t die either.  Bad experience with the Doctor …’ 

For the first time, Rory laughed.  ‘Aren’t they all?’ 

‘I can take you away from this, you know?’  Jack waved his hand in the air, exposing the vortex manipulator.  ‘You don’t have to stay.’ 

‘I know,’ Rory said.  ‘I chose to.  I’m choosing to.’ 

He reflected Jack’s position, leaning his head back against the Pandorica, his hand unconsciously patting the ledge he was sitting on.  Images of Amy slumped in the box pressed in on him and the pats became a caress.  No, he didn’t have to be here, but Amy needed him so stay he would.  He caught Jack watching him with a careful eye and flushed, carefully putting his hand in his lap.

‘What’s in the box, then?  This is not just a job to you, is it?’ 

Rory could feel himself flushing more deeply as he looked away, unwilling to allow this stranger to see his face as they discussed Amy.  ‘I can’t tell you.  It’s too important. It’s … yeah it’s more than a job.  But I can’t say.’

‘Well you’re no fun.’  Captain Jack slapped him on the leg, squeezing it before adding in a more serious tone, ‘how are you coping?’ 

Rory didn’t know why, but he felt like he could trust this guy.  Maybe it was the not dying, maybe it was the unashamed brashness.  Maybe it was just loneliness and the novelty of talking to someone who had a modern perspective.  He sighed.  ‘I’m okay, I guess.  I mean … Roman.  In Rome.  It’s not so bad.  They think I’m a god.  Or something.’ 

‘I’ll bet.  Nestene, huh?  That must be interesting.’ 

‘Not really.  It’s not so different from being human.  Apart from the not-dying and not-aging.  Not sleeping is a bit of a drag, though.’  Rory looked at him quizzically. ‘What’s your story?  Most people don’t come out of encounters with the Doctor unable to die.’  His heart squeezed as he thought about Amy, who was dead because of the Doctor.  Jack was watching his face carefully and gave him a sympathetic pat as he saw the pain reflected in Rory’s face, though likely mistaking the cause. 

‘Oh, it’s a long story you don’t need to worry about.  Much less interesting than yours, centurion.’ 

‘When are you from?’  Rory asked, ignoring the silent question and going back to safer territory.  The man beside him seemed too urbane to even be 21st century.

‘51st century,’ Jack confirmed.  ‘You?’

‘21st,’ Rory said.  ‘Though it’s a bit complicated.’ 

‘Always is.’  Jack smirked at him.  ‘Always is.  I knew a 21st century girl once.  She was a bit mad but I loved her.’  He looked over at Rory again and must have seen something in his face because he added, ‘this must be odd, then – Rome.  Hey!’ his face lit up.  ‘Isn’t it going to fall soon?  Wouldn’t that be something to see!’ 

‘I think so,’ said Rory, ignoring the suggestion that seeing a huge empire destroy itself would be fun.  ‘Signs are there.  Empire’s losing its grip on the provinces.  Can’t be long now, I wouldn’t think.  Didn’t pay enough attention in History class, though, so I’m not sure.’ 

Jack nodded, then sighed and stood up.  ‘I’d better get going.  It was … good to talk, centurion.  Maybe I’ll see you again.’  He held out his hand to Rory.  ‘Do you have a name?  Or do I keep calling you ‘centurion’ forever?’ 

‘Oh.  Rory.  I’m Rory.  It was nice to meet you, too.’  They shook hands and the captain sauntered off, with a final wave of the hand and a casual ‘see ya, Rory.’  

It _had_ been good, Rory mused as he sat down again.  A friendly face from his own time, or near enough to his own time – someone who understood being out of place, anyway – had been a pleasant time out.  He felt reinvigorated, ready to face another few hundred years of his self-imposed vigil.  Being given the chance to leave again assuaged any regrets he’d had at not taking up the Doctor’s offer and he felt much more at peace than he had even earlier that day.  Taking a deep, happy sigh Rory settled back against the Pandorica, his lips softened into an unaccustomed smile.


	23. Chapter 23

‘I really don’t think this is a good idea.’  Rory tried to reason with his commander for what felt like the millionth time.  ‘The provinces are restless; this is not safe.’

‘Exactly, lad. The provinces are restless.  That’s why we need to take our most notable treasures out to remind them of the might of Rome.’  Rory couldn’t help but think what a stupid idea that was – but it was very much the sort of thing Constantius would think to do.  There was something really quite idiotic about every single Roman emperor, Rory reflected; each one tried to put his mark on the throne by doing something grand, and usually stupid.  Like, for instance, loading up the Pandorica and other majestic treasures and sending them out under limited guard around the imploding empire.  The imploding empire which was often under attack by groups of other nationalities which could smell Roman defeat in the air. 

The commander caught sight of Rory’s face as he stared up at the Pandorica, and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.  ‘Don’t worry – this is our most important artefact; we’re not going to put it in danger.’ 

Rory muttered to himself under his breath, ‘this _is_ a danger,’ but didn’t dare speak again.  If the Pandorica was going to be going out on tour then he had to be allowed to stay with it.  It was, after all, not essential that it stay in Roman hands, just that it be safe.  Whatever happened to it on its pilgrimage, Rory needed to be with it.  He bowed and left to make his own arrangements.

Trudging along behind the Pandorica’s cart a few weeks later, Rory was feeling anxious.  The hot weather had dried out the roads and every step puffed up clouds of dust.  It made visuals very difficult and increased his anxiety.  The raucous laughs of the men surrounding him set his teeth on edge, too.  Did they have no idea how appealing a target they were making the procession?  

As much as Rory knew in his head that Rome was falling and that it wouldn’t be a safe haven for himself and the Pandorica for much longer, he didn’t want to admit that it was time to move on.  And anyway, he didn’t like the insecurity of their current location.  They’d been walking for weeks.  Admittedly, the reception in every small out of the way town or city they had been in had been boisterous and enthusiastic.  However, Rory didn’t trust the apparent peace of the area they were currently travelling through.  Visigoth and Frankish raids had been minimal recently and Rory couldn’t help but wonder if they were just waiting for a better opportunity.  There had been no logical reason for the attacks to slacken off, and after long years observing, Rory had developed a good sense of when something just didn’t feel right. 

He finally allowed himself to breathe easy when they got to the relative safety of Duisberg, a small city where they were intending to display their treasure for a month.  Here, he knew, there were other people to help guard the Pandorica.  Here there were people around and no chance for an ambush.  Here Amy would be (relatively) safe. 

Rory carefully watched as the giant box was set up in pride of place in the middle of the city’s largest square.  He was still unhappy that the Romans were parading it around, taunting every enemy they had to come and take a swipe at it.  But he had to admit it seemed secure enough surrounded by so many buildings and with the legions stationed nearby.  

A few days later, after he had once again ensured the security of the surrounding buildings, Rory sat down gingerly on the edge of the box to take his guard.  Somewhere in the last few hundred years Rory had become a little rusty. No, that wasn’t the word.  He was plastic and plastic didn’t rust, but his joints didn’t feel as mobile as they had when he’d first sat here.  He sighed.  It was just one more example of how long he had been doing this.  When he thought of how long he still had to go Rory sometimes found himself getting despondent.  If he was this creaky already, how was he ever going to manage for another 1500-odd years? 

Rory sat up suddenly, startled out of his reverie.  Something was different tonight.  The torches flickered as they had for the two nights he had been stationed here, and the men’s snoring was as expressive as ever.  But there was something else out in the night. 

He heard it again and rose slowly to his feet, pulling his sword into his hand as noiselessly as he could.  He stepped carefully forwards, trying to see into the side alley the noise had come from.  He felt a scraping at his neck and the hot flash of a torch as someone took hold of him from behind.  Rory froze.  He didn’t care about the sword – it couldn’t pierce the plastic of his skin after all – but the torch could damage him.  He reflexively felt his pinky where he had once tested the Doctor’s words to him as he’d left.  The melted edge proved a stark reminder of his present danger. 

Rory dropped his own sword and cleared his throat.  ‘Um, would you … would you mind just backing the torch off a bit?’  

The sword wavered a little on his neck, then the heat receded as the torch was thrust behind them and his arms were pulled painfully up behind his back. 

‘You’re not going to fight then, lad?’ 

‘Depends.  What are you going to do with the box?’ 

Out of the corner of his eye Rory could see several men lifting the logs which were used to pull the Pandorica.  

‘We’re taking it for the Frankish armies.’

It was really happening then.  Everything Rory had feared about this trip had just been proven correct.  He grimaced, weighing up his options.  It was clear what the best thing to do was, though it sat ill on his conscience. 

In fact, he felt sick.  In his imagination, Rory had assumed he would remain with the Pandorica in Rome for the bulk of his 2,000 year mission, but now at the first sign of trouble here he was abandoning his loyalty.  It didn’t sit well on his conscience.  On the other hand, the Romans were becoming reckless and fickle.  The empire was collapsing around him, and from distant high school memory the Franks were pretty good fighters.  Keeping Amy safe was of paramount importance, so no matter how much it pained Rory to abandon his moral objection to deserting, he decided this was probably his best option. 

‘I’m pledged to the box,’ Rory said.  ‘As long as you keep it somewhere safe I’ll guard it.’ 

‘Oh, we’ll look after it, alright.  This here box – and its faithful centurion – are highly prized.’  The man looked Rory up and down, then clearly decided he was no threat.  He nodded to the soldier holding Rory, and his arms were released.  He massaged them, trying to ensure the experience didn’t hasten his decay. 

Quietly, and with many misgivings, Rory allowed himself to be led away.  The Pandorica’s cart creaked a little as it moved and Rory desperately hoped no Roman woke while they made their way out of the town and into the black of night.  He whispered his fear to the man beside him. 

‘Not to worry, boy.  We’ve made sure your friends can’t follow us.’  The men around him laughed heartily and Rory’s heart twisted.  The snores from the tents had ceased and yet no-one had come to see what was going on, not even when they heard that loud burst of laughter.  The bizarreness of the situation hit him.  These were Romans, and highly trained.  If they were awake they would be out fighting.  Rory swallowed.  He thought of his men, the people he had joked with for the last few weeks as they moved with the Pandorica.  He felt sickened again as he thought about how he was deserting everything that had been important to him – his loyalty, his sincerity, his care for others – but he had to do what was needed to keep Amy safe.  Muttering a quick blessing sending the souls of his companions to the god of the underworld, Rory set his eyes on the future.


	24. Chapter 24

‘Rory the Roman!’

Rory started as the voice boomed cheerfully into the confined space he was in. As always, the use of English threw him for a moment. He was so used to the softer cadences of the languages around him. The Latin, the Frankish language. English, as well as being so out of its own time, was so harsh and guttural by contrast.

‘Jack,’ he smiled eventually. ‘How are you?’

‘Ouch. Better than you, it seems,’ Jack said as he sat down. ‘Why the long face?’

Rory sighed and stretched out. ‘It’s nothing. I’m just …’ he looked away, then swallowed.

‘You’re getting bored.’ Jack nodded, his easy grin in place as he lounged against the Pandorica. ‘Can’t say I blame you. Look at this place? It’d drive a better man insane.’

‘No, it’s not that!’ Rory protested. ‘I was just realising I don’t even remember what Amy looks like.’ A lump formed in his throat. The thing he was here to do, the one thing he had assigned himself, was to protect Amy, keep her safe – and he could barely recall her voice, let alone the way her hair fell when she was laughing at him, or the way her body would vibrate when she got excited about something. He could feel the tears welling up, so he carefully looked away from the other man.

In the many times Jack had appeared over the last few hundred years, Rory had grown to trust the man. Telling him about Amy had been difficult the first time, but Jack had never judged. Jack had been so accepting of what Rory had done, that he even looked forward to the times when Jack breezed in, a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stultifying life with the Franks. Not today, though. Today, Rory wished he was alone with his bleak thoughts. 

Jack didn’t take the hint, unfortunately. Instead, he sat down next to Rory, forcing him to look into his face.

‘Yes you do,’ he said. ‘I know. If you try hard enough you’ll find she’s still there waiting for you.’

‘How can you know that?’ Rory could feel his voice cracking.

‘Because I remember them all. All those people who were important to me. My mother, my brother. Rose.’ He sighed, the air rushing out of him in an uncharacteristically sober moment. ‘You’re no different, Rory. You’ll see.’

He patted Rory’s knee, then added, ‘tell me about her. I guarantee you’ll remember more than you realise.’

Half hopeful, half sceptical, Rory began to talk. He was hesitant at first. The memories of Amy didn’t want to return. He couldn’t pull her face into his mind. His brain kept overlaying the sounds of other women, and he would see faces that didn’t hold the same shape, the same feeling as Amy’s did. But soon enough, Rory closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into his memories. Amy’s voice began to speak to him, the tones clear and affectionately disparaging. Then finally he could picture her face.

‘She has this way she flips her hair …’ he said, a slight laugh in his voice as he wound down. He realised he’d been talking for hours. He looked over at Jack, who still looked interested. Rory silently blessed his courteousness. He smiled softly as he continued. ‘It falls over her face and she gets annoyed with it, then she tosses her head a bit to flip it off. Then she’ll just grin as it falls down again. I never did get why she didn’t just tie it back.’ Rory sighed. Then his heart squeezed as he remembered that last time her hair had fallen off her face – when her body slipped away from him as she died.

‘It’s not your fault, you know?’ Jack said as he watched Rory carefully. ‘You couldn’t have helped it.’

‘I should have … I should have known.’ Rory was adamant. He’d been thinking about this for years. ‘I should have just walked away when those memories returned.’ Rory held his own failure against himself – he should have recognised how wrong everything was and known to take action. Amy had suffered because of his stupidity.

‘Did you know you were an auton then?’ Jack’s voice cut into his thoughts and Rory grimaced.

‘No, but I should have …’

‘You couldn’t have known,’ Jack said. He reached out and squeezed Rory’s hand. ‘It was all designed to ensure you didn’t know. You can’t blame yourself.’

Rory ran a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘I can’t not blame myself. I did it. I killed her. She’s stuck in there because of me.’

‘It’s no use talking to you, I see.’ Jack huffed once and stood up. He started to leave, then turned back to Rory with a half-smile on his face. ‘You’re a good man, Roman. You just need to come to terms with that. This is not you. The real you is the one who decided to stay with your Amy, not the one who fired that shot.’ He winked. ‘I can’t wait to meet this girl. She must be something to turn you into this.’

He tipped his hat to Rory and sauntered off with a cheery wave. Rory sighed again and leaned back against the Pandorica. Much as he’d love to believe Jack, and much as his being there had been cathartic in a way, Rory still couldn’t shake his dark thoughts. This was his big act of atonement – and yet he felt like he could never atone. 

How meaningless these years had been. 

In that initial rush of fervour in the underhenge, Rory had believed that spending 2,000-odd years with the Pandorica would assuage his guilt. It hadn’t. He still felt as dreadful as he had the day it had happened. And anyway, the one thing he had learned in the last several hundred years was that none of that mattered anyway. What mattered was Amy. His guilt? Nothing. Amy’s life – now that was worth something. He forced himself to remember that no matter how he felt, Amy was safer with him here.

He sighed once again and forced himself to stand. Amy needed him. He would guard her – and one day she would be freed from her prison. Then, and only then, could Rory rest easy.


	25. Chapter 25

Rory laid down his pen, just so – everything had its place and the pen was carefully placed in its usual position at the top of the sheet of paper he was currently using.  His hands shook a little as they unclamped from the unnatural position they’d been in while he wrote, and then wearily scrubbed over his lined face.  He sighed and leaned back, feeling his back pop – a vivid reminder that he was no longer either young or plastic, and the last small push Rory needed to pull himself out of ancient history and into the present day.  Amy looked up as he sighed, and smiled at him. 

‘How goes the memoir, Centurion?’

Rory smiled at her.  ‘It’s … it’s getting painful,’ he said, finally admitting something he hadn’t allowed himself to think before. 

‘Painful how?’  Amy’s voice was warm, curious.  She stood up and crossed to him, her figure as lithe as it had always been, but there was a stiffness in her movements which made Rory wince in sympathy with her.  He held his hand out to her and she squeezed his as she bent to kiss his hair and read what he had written. 

‘I don’t like remembering this time,’ he said as the silence as she read became unbearable to him.  The words were too unhappy for him to relish her reading them.  ‘It was long.  And boring … and painful.’  The admission was so soft he wondered if she had even heard him.  The slight pressure on his hand was all the response she needed to give him.

‘It can’t have been that bad,’ she said.  ‘You saw so much history after all.’

‘No I didn’t.  Not really.  I sat by while history happened – it’s not the same thing.  Besides … I missed you.’  Amy smiled again, then kissed his cheek. 

‘I’m sure you did.  Well,’ she said, standing up and heading for the kitchen, ‘you should do what feels right.  If I’ve learned one thing from writing it’s that you should go with the story that wants to be told, not the one you think you want to tell.’ 

Rory snorted as she left the parting shot.  He’d heard her ideas about writing every day for the past several months.  His frail body resisted his efforts to sit for too long, so Amy was forever telling him to leave it, leave bits out.  It was alright for her, Rory thought with an indulgent smile.  She wrote fiction – well, fictionalised truth – and she had no qualms at all in changing details or turning what really happened into a fantastic tale.  No-one was expected to believe her stories were real.  In fact, if they did believe them there would be a problem.  Rory, by contrast, felt an obligation to detail everything as perfectly as he could from his own memory.  If this was to be his memoir, the thing he left for posterity, then he felt a duty to do it justice.  

Sighing again, Rory picked up his pen one more time.  He _knew_ he had to be selective, but what did you leave out of two thousand years of a life?  What did you deem unimportant?  He didn’t know, but he did know that many of the years he lived were so repetitive that he couldn’t think of what to say about them beyond the fact that they happened. 

Rory looked down at what he had just written, and tried to immerse himself in his past.  All he could see were the flash of years as they flew past him.  Time with the Franks … gone too fast.  Time with various Germanic tribes … also gone in a flash.  Nothing stood out to him, nothing interfered in the relentless blur of being passed from one tribe to another either through bloodshed or exchange of money.  Rory never had a say in the transactions (the people who owned the Pandorica, and by extension himself, had learned quickly that he would docilely do what they wanted so long as they never harmed the box), but he had been allowed to stay with Amy.  And that, after all, was the only thing that had mattered. 

The first thing that stood out to Rory in the endless parade of his memories was the moment he found himself in the company of the Knights Templar.  Their magnificence stood in marked contrast to the slightly grubby life he’d lived before they’d ‘liberated’ him from the last of a long run of tribes.  Remembering how the nine knights, bedraggled and shabby, and yet nonetheless splendid in their dedication to their beliefs, had convinced the tribe to let the Pandorica go for a pittance, Rory grinned. 

Still smiling, Rory bent his aged head to the paper in front of him.  He knew what to do, finally.  The words suddenly poured out as he thought about his time with the Knights.


	26. Chapter 26

‘You what?’ Rory shook his head, sure he had misheard something. ‘You said what? To who?’

He glanced over at the nine bedraggled men waiting patiently by the Pandorica. They stood at an easy parade rest, clearly men who were used to the military. Their tunics, embroidered with two men on one horse, were worn and ripped around the base but nonetheless pristine white.

‘I said,’ the other man repeated patiently, ‘that we have given the box to these men. We can’t look after its upkeep anymore.’

‘Upkeep?’ Rory was outraged. ‘What upkeep? I do all the work and I don’t cost anything …’

‘Even so … it is very large and very difficult to keep. These men want it and so they will take it for us.’

Rory’s heart sank and he looked at the men again. They didn’t look exactly welcoming.

‘But what will I do? I … the box …’ Rory trailed off, feeling tears blinking behind his eyes. He refused to give in to them, but he was so damn tired of being passed from group to group and never being in control of his own life.

‘You go with the box, of course. What would anyone do with a lone centurion? Besides, they want you …’ he waved his arms in the direction of the knights who were starting to look interested. Rory sighed. Great. It wasn’t that his life had been particularly fulfilling, but dammit if it wasn’t comforting knowing the basics of how things would be. No matter which tribe he’d been handed to – Frankish, Germanic, whatever else – he had at least known that life would be relatively similar. He would be stationed somewhere with the Pandorica and … that would basically be it. Boring? Yeah, maybe. But it was familiar.

He glanced over at the nine men again. Now he could tell that life was about to change in a big way. 

‘You. Boy.’ One of the knights was waving at Rory imperiously. He sighed and moved toward the man.

‘Yes?’ He said, the sigh still obvious in his voice. Boy, he was called, when he had already lived for hundreds of years more than this man could even dream of. ‘Sir,’ he added hastily, however, when the man’s expression turned stony cold and his lips compressed into a tight line.

‘You will come with us. The box will follow.’ He started moving, gesturing to his fellow knights who all turned obediently as one and headed in the direction he had pointed in.

‘No.’ Rory was adamant. He stayed on the spot. 

The man turned back towards him, the expression now incredulous. ‘Excuse me?’ he asked.

‘I won’t leave the box. That’s my job. Where it goes, I go.’ Rory felt terrified as he faced the man who had wheeled his horse back towards Rory and was now staring down at him, his face unreadable. For the first time in years Rory felt afraid, but he stood his ground. Amy was inside the Pandorica, and therefore no matter what happened Rory had to stay with it. He shook as the man examined him. When he had passed from tribe to tribe it had a certain familiarity and none of the leaders were as intimidating as this one. The tribes all dealt with each other, and consequently with Rory, in a very similar manner. There was a relaxed, congenial atmosphere. Whereas here … well, let’s just say Rory was not sure he could trust these guys to keep the Pandorica safe.

‘You do not do as you are told? Why is that? All my men are obedient to the Lord. Why are you not?’

Rory gulped. Despite an irrational desire to sneer ‘maybe, but you aren’t your Lord,’ Rory knew he was in danger. The unfamiliarity of these Knights, and their obvious fanaticism, was very unsettling. He didn’t think an explanation of Juventas’s appearance to him in Rome would help here. In fact, he rather suspected it might be hazardous to mention it. Dredging up his memories of the Knights Templar, Rory felt that a newfound and very deep belief in the Christian God would be best. Even so, he knew he was going to have to do something to explain his eternal youth. He had no idea how long he would be with these people but he did know his appearance was becoming part of his legend. As the old Roman gods slowly faded out of favour the easy lies about Juventus were becoming increasingly difficult to sell, and his legend was becoming less easy to control.

‘It’s my … my calling, you see. I can’t just leave the box. It’s part of its … its magic, see.’ Rory wasn’t sure that ‘magic’ was going to be any better than ‘Juventus made me do it’ but he couldn’t think of anything else on the spot.

The man leaned down from his horse and peered into Rory’s face. ‘He isn’t lying,’ he said after a long moment. He sat back up until he was ramrod-straight on his horse. ‘We stay here until the box can be transported. We cannot afford to let this man out of our sight – he is our ticket to greatness.’

Rory gaped. He was the ticket to greatness? What? How? The man pulled his horse around and turned his back on Rory, seemingly indifferent to Rory’s comment about magic. Why was that? Did they believe in magic? His understanding of the older forms of Christianity was sketchy, but he didn’t think they should be this blasé. That they were was making him even more anxious.

He hurried to catch up with the man – a simple enough task as he had his horse at a very slow walk.

‘Excuse me. Sir?’ He called out. ‘How am I a ticket to greatness? I’m not anything special. I’m just a guard of a special box.’

‘That, my boy, is where you are wrong. The box is indeed wondrous – more wondrous than I had expected from the tales. However, it is you, Centurion, who holds the most interest. How do you remain so young? It is a mystery which we will unravel and it will enable us to glorify God even higher.’

He held up a hand to forestall Rory’s protests. ‘Yes, Centurion, I know all about your stories. But they cannot be true – everyone knows the Romans were lying heathens – and even you must realise the game is up. You hold the key; you have had the secret of immortality bestowed on you by our Lord, and we will find out what your secret is. The Lord commands it.’ The flush on his face and his exalted expression sent a shaft of terror right into Rory’s chest, where it thumped uneasily.

Rory pulled back. He glanced over at the Pandorica, which was gleaming softly in the fading sun. His plastic heart hammered even harder as he thought about what invasive tests the Knights might devise. They would never understand the plastic or the real truth, but he had a feeling they would never give up. They were clearly fanatical – or at least this leader was. The Romans’ more slap-happy attitude towards their gods and worship had made Rory complacent. However, these men were unlikely to allow ‘live and let live’ to be their motto. While Rory had attended church in Leadworth to please his father, he had never really believed in God. He had never been able to internalise the message without some tiny part of his brain questioning it, refusing to allow Rory to immerse himself. It had never made sense to Rory, so he couldn’t believe in it, but now he clearly had to discover some semblance of faith – and quickly.

Still concerned, Rory had no choice but to follow the men. While he had in the past wished for a more interesting life, now that it had turned up, Rory was certain he didn’t want it. However, it looked like it had arrived and it was now up to him to make the best of it. Taking one last look at the Pandorica for strength, he turned resolutely towards his new life.


End file.
